


Le Fiston

by rhye



Series: Le Fiston Universe [3]
Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-21 10:08:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10683135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhye/pseuds/rhye
Summary: Choose your favorite Gaston redemption fic, and this one comes after it. I wanted to imagine a world in which Gaston and LeFou are living together happily in a village full of people that accept them. However, no story can work without conflict. Being accepted by the village has made self-acceptance easy for Gaston. When Gaston's son tracks him down, though, Gaston's instincts tell him to hide his relationship with LeFou. Or, what happens then reality leaks into Gaston's fantasy happy ending.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have been eagerly eating up everything Gaston/LeFou on every platform available. I started writing this days ago for myself, but I noticed that the activity on this tag was slowing down and I figured I owed it to the amazing writers to share a bit of what I've got as well.
> 
> I am reading like eight Gafou redemption fics. I have favorites, but in an effort to make this work within the context of any of them, I have not adopted details from any one of them, and have taken some of my own liberties, such as in naming LeFou using a name I have not seen used yet. Redemption!fic details are glossed over so you can imagine the backstory of your choosing.
> 
> It's hard to balance Gaston's natural jerkwadness with a healthy relationship-- hard, but not impossible, and he is a heck of a lot of fun to write.
> 
> Also I am the worst at updating or finishing fics. You have been warned.

LeFou woke up to the blissful awareness that his head was rising and falling with Gaston’s breath, pillowed on one of Gaston’s massive pectoral muscles. A finger, one accustomed to the triggers of blunderbusses and crossbows, was tracing lazy circles on LeFou’s fleshy arm.

LeFou tilted his neck backwards, his eyes still clouded with sleep, to see Gaston. Gaston was glaring at the ceiling, clearly lost in thought-- and when it came to Gaston, that was never good. LeFou had barely woken and Gaston was already in one of his brooding moods.

“What’s wrong?” LeFou asked.

Gaston seemed startled by his partner’s wakefulness. He forced a smile and shook LeFou lightly. “Nothing,” he lied.

LeFou leaned up on one arm to see Gaston more clearly. “I know that’s a lie,” he said.

Gaston sighed in surrender. “LeFou, my friend, you know me too well. I was trying not to trouble you with my own follies.”

“Gaston,” LeFou said fondly, “We are partners now in every sense. I would share in every one of your follies.”

Gaston laughed, a sound that came more from his heaving chest than from his lips. Nevertheless, it was forced. “Tell me,” LeFou whispered, all seriousness. Whatever was bothering Gaston was not a trifle this morning. LeFou knew how well Gaston dismissed trifles, and how much of _everything_ he considered beneath his concern. Whatever was stuck in his craw must be serious.

Gaston sat up, dumping LeFou unceremoniously off his chest. He turned to the side, away from LeFou, and planted his feet on the ground.

LeFou was determined not to be distracted by the clean lines of Gaston’s back fading into the swell of his muscular croupe. He was about to ask again when Gaston began speaking.

“LeFou, my friend, you may not know this but there was a time when I directed my romantic intentions towards only the fairer sex.”

Of course LeFou knew this. Usually, when Gaston said something obvious and acted as though it were a revelation, LeFou would pretend to be enlightened. Everyone within a hundred furlongs knew he had slept with women. Until the events of the past year, Gaston had seemed to _only_ have eyes for women. After his confrontation with Prince Adam and the subsequent curse he bore, he was able to finally admit that he had often thought of men that way as well. His father had tried to beat it out of him, and he had adopted such a lifestyle that no one would think him capable of something so aberrant. How could he, the paragon of all that was masculine, wish to lie with men as he did with women? But then the curse, and LeFou-- Well, all that had happened, and now here was Gaston _confessing_ to LeFou to having slept with women? “Yes, Gaston, I knew that.”

“Oh. Well. I got a letter.” He pulled a piece of paper from his bedside table and threw it towards LeFou.

“Gaston,” LeFou hesitated, “You know I can’t read…” Honestly, Gaston was pretty adorable when he was oblivious. Which was often.

“Oh.” Gaston took the letter back and flapped it open with a shake of his wrist. He began to read, “‘Monsieur blah blah who cares… I have heard tell of your prowess in war, your uncompromising courage, your unparalleled skill with a bow, your’… well, you get the idea.”

“Yes I think I do,” LeFou said. “This is fan mail.”

“Just wait, it’s…” Gaston used his finger to trace over the words. He was literate, but that didn’t mean he was a fluent reader himself. “Ah yes, here.” He cleared his throat. “‘I am arriving in Villanueve on the seventeenth of April to meet you, but it is not just because I have heard of and admire you. I am the son of Mademoiselle Madeleine Beaugendre of the town of Cair, and she has informed me that I am your son.’”

LeFou gasped. He was honestly surprised, though he didn’t know why he should be. Gaston had sowed his oats in every field from here to Portugal, and what reason would they have to believe none of those would sprout? Considering this for the first time, LeFou came to realize that Gaston probably had beautiful offspring all over France. Not to mention another battalion of mini-Gastons likely dotting the Spanish and Portuguese countrysides. Gaston had been affectionate with many of the handsomer widows during the war. LeFou, his able batman, was more than aware of this. Though Gaston could easily have a full score of children across the three countries, none of those children concerned LeFou much at the moment, not with an impending visit from this one… “Did you say the _seventeenth_?” He hated the way his voice squeaked on the end.

Gaston nodded.

“That’s today! How long have you had that letter?”

Gaston sighed. “I’m sorry, LeFou. I didn’t want to think of it. I thought maybe--”

“You thought if you never thought about it, it would never happen.”

Gaston’s shoulders sank.

“But why should you dread meeting your own son so much, Gaston? I know you have always wanted children, and you know I cannot give them to you.” He said this last with a quirked lip, hoping to illicit a laugh from Gaston, but alas, Gaston was too deeply buried in his own mood to be so easily cheered.

“If this had happened last year, or the year before, I would have been overjoyed. I would have taught him to hunt, drink, arm wrestle!” Gaston turned to LeFou and LeFou saw the light of enthusiasm in Gaston’s eyes. “Imagine, LeFou, finally someone who might be able to match or even best me! He might have my arm, my swift stealth, my stamina.”

“Let’s hope he doesn’t have your humility,” LeFou said, but Gaston didn’t seem to hear him.

“But alas,” Gaston’s shoulders sunk. “For the past year we have been living in a fantasy, LeFou. This town, this…” he gestured to LeFou and LeFou about _felt_ his heart sink to his feet.

“What are you saying?” LeFou’s voice was not questioning, but warning. It had a dangerous edge, and Gaston seemed to have heard that well enough.

“No, Fabien,” he gripped LeFou’s hand tightly. His gaze was flat and earnest. “I am not saying anything. I do not regret this. And I will not give it up even for my son. But I regret--”

LeFou sighed. “You regret that you might have to choose between us.”

“It has been _so easy_ ,” Gaston sighed. “Since Prince Adam claimed this valley as his own, love is to be considered paramount. No one is allowed to speak out against us. It is a strange twist of fate that has made my old foe, the Beast, the protector of my greatest joy.”

“He is forgiving,” LeFou said.

Gaston nodded. “I know. It is more than I deserve.”

“Gaston.” LeFou hated to see Gaston beating himself up.

But Gaston shook that quickly enough, forcing a smile. “Well, he’s arriving today. I hope you don’t mind… I hope you won’t be offended if I meet him away from home.”

“You mean to keep him ignorant of your proclivities?” LeFou asked.

Gaston pressed his lips together, equivocating. “Not… well, maybe. I can’t say. If he discovers that I lie with _men_ \--”

“Not _men_. Just me.”

This time Gaston did laugh. “Perhaps I could put a dress on you.”

For a moment, LeFou was frightened that Gaston was serious. But no, it had been a joke.

“Look, LeFou. You know I love you. And you know I am proud to have you-- a hero of the war as much as I-- as my family. And you may not have my debonair looks, but who does? You are not as tall as me, but you have length where it counts--”

LeFou blushed.

“You could not be expected to hunt or fight as well as I do, but you do other things far better. You trust, you forgive, you love in ways I could never hope to attain.”

LeFou would never tire of this new Gaston, who was as generous in praising LeFou as he was in praising himself. Indeed, from the moment Gaston had conceived of LeFou as a permanent part of his own life, LeFou could not be found wanting in these virtues. Gaston affirmed that LeFou was as attractive inside as Gaston was out, and therefore they made a perfect pair. Yes, it was also a little insulting, but, well, no one was perfect. After all, LeFou had to admit he was a bit shallow himself when it came to Gaston’s body.

“But,” LeFou prompted, sure it was coming…

“But. But if he knows I am lying with a man, that we’d set up house together as if we were married, that we plan to remain so-- forever, my friend-- he may think less of me. Perhaps if he got to know me first. If we hunted and sparred. I could introduce you as my friend only, as we once were. Maybe later, when he knows me, he would be ready to understand more.”

LeFou had no family to concern himself with, no friends outside of this village, so though he had misgivings about Gaston’s plan, he wasn’t sure he had any right to object. Gaston had something to lose here, and if LeFou objected to the plan and Gaston was never able to get to know his son, Gaston would blame LeFou. And perhaps rightly so. “If you think it is a good idea, mon ours.”

Gaston preened at the endearment. He sank to his knees in front of LeFou, still naked as the day he was born. “Thank you for understanding, mon nounours.” He captured LeFou’s face between his massive hands and leaned in for a kiss. LeFou grasped Gaston’s shoulders to pull himself closer.

“One question,” LeFou added once they’d broken the kiss. “What about the townsfolk? They have not only adapted, but accepted us. They all watched you suffer to do penance, and me suffer to win you back from the darkness. I think this peaceful life was more a relief to them than a shock.”

“Yes I know. They got their town hero back, and a prince as well.” Gaston stood and began choosing clothes off of his armoire. He chose clean blue trousers and a fresh white shirt. He turned to LeFou and said, “Plus there’s Adam.” He winked at his own cleverness.

LeFou stood to dress, taking his cue from Gaston. He found a lighter but similarly blue set of his own trousers with minimal riding dust. “I just mean, they will now know in advance that we are misleading this young lad. Did the letter give his name?”

“Justin.”

“Justin,” LeFou repeated. “The townsfolk might--”

“Listen,” Gaston interrupted. “We are not misleading him. We are merely not telling him _everything_. You and I are friends, are we not, mon ami?”

“Of course, but--”

“No one will say anything untoward--”

“Mon ours, if he is half as clever as you, he will not need many clues to discover our true relationship.”

At this, Gaston frowned. Apparently that particular line of reasoning did get through to him. LeFou sighed internally. No matter how reformed he was, Gaston was never likely to be accused of excess humility. Then again, LeFou loved him this way. A humble Gaston would be, among other things, less easily steered. LeFou was a master by now at steering Gaston.

“You are right as always, LeFou. We shall have to take extra care. I know of no other solution. Besides, it’s only temporary. We’ll tell him when the time is right.”

LeFou nodded. “When do we meet him?”

Gaston adjusted a dark blue cravat at his collar. “ _I_ will head into town to intercept the coach. You…” he frowned at LeFou. Normally they ran errands in town together in the mornings. “You can go to the market as usual.”

“Shall I prepare supper?” LeFou enjoyed cooking and prepared supper every day.

Gaston sighed. He had always been a man of routine and this was clearly vexing his imagination. “I will stay in town with him. We’ll head to the tavern. I will likely see you after dark.”

“Couldn’t I come to the tavern?” LeFou asked. “People are likely to ask after me if I am not there.”

“Yes, of course, you’re right. I will see you there. _After_ supper.” Gaston nodded and tied a tanned strip of leather into his silky, dark hair. He hefted his light-weight tanned leather coat, made from an enormous stag he’d got with one clean shot between the eyes, and pulled it on his arms. He turned, and locked eyes with LaFou.

He must have seen something in LeFou’s eyes, though, because instead of leaving, he moved closer. Gaston lifted one of LaFou’s hands to his mouth, kissing the knuckles. Then he lifted the other, doing the same. “Mon Fabien,” he sighed.

Then, with one swift move, he turned and left their little two-room cottage. The room seemed smaller, quieter, deader without Gaston in it. Gaston brought energy with him everywhere he went, and LeFou was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. He was well able to function on his own, to run his own errands, to make and eat his own supper. He had done it all before, alone. That wasn’t the point. The point was, he didn’t _want_ to. And he shouldn’t have to. He’d already won Gaston.

He shrugged off the strange sensation of rejection and finished dressing for the day’s errands.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the first day of Justin's visit, LeFou trades chickens for a rose and a lie. But lying to Justin has consequences he had forgotten to predict.

LeFou strolled through the marketplace along his usual path. He bought a loaf of bread and a small bottle of milk from Ignace’s little storefront and apples from Gabriel on the corner. He stopped as usual by Ange Frère, who had the egg cart. LeFou and Gaston were regulars of his, even though LeFou had his own three chickens. Gaston preferred duck eggs, which Monsieur Frère sold at two francs each. LeFou would never have paid that for an egg, but it wasn’t his money or his stomach.

“Bonjour,” Ange said. “I’ve got your eggs right here, LeFou. One dozen duck eggs--”

“Non,” LeFou interrupted him. “I won’t be buying eggs today, Ange.”

Ange’s gaze hardened. LeFou rarely went to the market without Gaston any more. They had never spent much time outside of each other’s company, and now they spent even less.

“Where is Gaston on this lovely morning?” Ange asked.

LeFou turned to look in the direction of the coach station before he’d even realized he’d done it. Gaston stood, tall and beautiful and _nervous_. He was pacing.

“Oh,” Ange said, nodding. “You must be expecting a visitor. You will be dining at the Tavern tonight then.” He seemed mollified.

LeFou moved on to Laura, who was selling flowers from her back garden. LeFou’s parents and Laura’s had been neighbors, and LeFou could remember vividly the wails of the infant across the garden when Laura was born. She felt almost a sister to him. As usual, she plucked out a flower for him. She didn’t talk much, but she made up for it in perfuse blushing. LeFou had often teased her just to see the red rise in her cheeks. He took the flower, popping its stem through a button-hole, and smiled at her. Suddenly, inspiration hit him. “Mademoiselle, would you honor me by accompanying me to the Tavern tonight for dinner?”

Her cheeks colored crimson, “Oh LeFou, don’t tease!”

“I’m not,” he said. “I am perfectly earnest.”

Her eyes looked past him, and LeFou knew she was seeing Gaston at the coach station, still waiting. “Is he going out of town somewhere?” she asked.

LeFou shook his head, but he said, “Can’t I take a beautiful woman to dinner without reference to the plans of any other individuals?”

“That depends,” she answered warily. “Am I to be complicit in some act of subterfuge?”

LeFou’s mouth gaped open. “What do you mean?”

She drew herself up higher. “Gaston is at the coach station. You said he is not leaving town, which means he is expecting someone to arrive. I am guessing this someone doesn’t know you exist.”

LeFou merely licked his lips.

“And you are concerned this someone would mete out your relationship to Gaston if you don’t have a ‘beautiful woman’ on your arm. So you would like me to be your prop?”

LeFou couldn’t meet her eyes. He was ashamed he had considered using Laura in this way.

“I will do it,” she said, “on one condition.”

LeFou looked back up at her.

“You buy a flower.”

“You just gave me a flower,” he tapped the daisy in his button hole. “I can pay for it if you like.”

“No, _another_ flower. And not for you.”

LeFou’s mouth opened and then closed again.

“It will help,” she said. “You’ll see. I’ll have Katia deliver it.”

Katia was Laura’s older sister. She was nearly ten years older than Laura, closer to LeFou’s age. Katia had always shown him disdain, but she showed disdain to most people. She was honest, but with a biting tongue. She had married a farmer and had a little boy. “Katia would never give a flower to Gaston,” LeFou said, confused.

“Yes, Katia dislikes Gaston. Everyone knows that,” Laura said.

LaFou made a face and said, “Katia dislikes everyone.”

“Don’t you see? If Katia delivers a flower to Gaston, the villagers will know something strange is going on. They may even suspect subterfuge.”

LeFou was grinning now, nodding wildly. “You are a genius! ”

“It’s very like something I read in a book.”

That’s right, LeFou reminded himself, Laura was taking reading and mathematics lessons from Princess Belle.

“You know how the villagers talk,” she said. “By this evening, everyone in town will know about this pretense.”

LeFou pulled a coin out of his purse and handed it to Laura. “One flower. For Gaston.”

She smiled, but LeFou found he could not smile back. For a year, he and Gaston had built a life together. It had been tenuous to start, but it was strong and stable at last. Now he had to pretend, for some interloper, that this flower was from Katia and not himself.

“Don’t worry,” Laura assured him as she separated out a small pink rose from her flowers, pulling its thorns off with delicate fingers, “He will know it is from you.”

“How?” LeFou asked.

“He is watching you,” Laura answered nonchalantly without looking up.

LeFou turned quickly, just in time to catch Gaston pretend to be looking elsewhere.

Smiling at Laura, he said, “I’ll pick you up at half past four, at your house.”

LeFou’s last stop was the cheesemonger, and he was there discussing the finer points of brie with Ghislain when he heard the coach approaching. He focused myopically on the cheese, trying not to think of Gaston or Justin or anything at all aside from whether or not to buy aged brie.

Ghislain suddenly gasped. “LeFou,” he whispered, his hand snapping out to wrap around LeFou’s wrist. His eyes were fixed behind LeFou, on the coach station.

LeFou refused to turn and look at the passengers departing from the coach. Instead he asked Ghislain, “What do you see?”

“They look just alike,” Ghislain said. “It is as if a young Gaston has stepped out of the past. This must be his son, non?”

LeFou nodded solemnly.

“Why are you not over there greeting him?” Ghislain asked, but even as he said it he seemed to realize the answer. “Oh… _LeFou_ ”

The man’s voice was laced with pity, and LeFou didn’t want to hear it. Instead, he moved past Ghislain’s cart and strode resolutely back to the cottage. He didn’t dare look up to see, but he certainly felt as though the eyes of all the villagers were upon him, pity in their gazes. _Poor LeFou,_ he imagined them thinking, _Gaston is so ashamed of him._ And for the first time since the night he had stormed a castle at Gaston’s side, LeFou also felt ashamed of himself.  
Only when he had closed the cottage door behind him did he realize he hadn’t bought the brie.

*****

For lunch, LeFou ate bread with the fresh milk, plus an apple. He fed the chickens and considered whether they might save money by having ducks instead. He eyed the dirty clothes pile with trepidation, not wanting to cart laundry to the well like a common housewife. Gaston never did his own laundry. LeFou had begun doing Gaston’s laundry while serving as his batman in the war, and he had never stopped. It had never bothered him before. But he had never felt like Gaston’s dirty little secret before, either. The laundry could wait, he decided.

Finally, at the appropriate time, he used Gaston’s pomade to straighten his hair and walked to Laura’s house. When he knocked on the door, it was Katia who answered, baby on hip. She leaned against the door jamb and frowned down at LeFou. “I delivered your flower. You owe me.”

LeFou nodded and tried to flatter her with the usual pleasantries that worked on most of the women in the village, but just as he knew it wouldn’t, his words had no effect on Katia. She sniffed and said, “Your chickens. A fox got into ours last week.”

LeFou was a bit attached to his three hens, but having just considered the wisdom of trading them in for ducks not hours before, it seemed a fair trade. He agreed, and this mollified Katia. She stepped back from the door. “Come in, then. I’ll get Laura.”

*****

LeFou walked arm in arm with his young, fair companion. Though the days were growing noticeably longer at last, the evening was surprisingly cool. Laura did not speak a word, but this was very like her. She was the opposite of Katia in almost every way. LeFou opened the door of the tavern to admit her.

Inside, Gaston was sitting with his back to the door, telling the old, tired stories of his own prowess and success. Justin’s eyes were glazed over, but his smile was fixed politely. As LeFou entered the tavern with Laura, an eerie silence fell. Everyone was loto the gathered crowd. Gaston must have noticed this change in the room’s atmosphere, because he turned his head to look over one muscular shoulder-- and then turned more fully, draping himself sideways in the chair. “LeFou,” he said with a cheery and natural-sounding calm, “You usually are not here _before_ supper.”

LeFou’s eyes narrowed and he rose to the challenge easily. “Yes, Gaston, but I also do not usually have such a lovely woman on my arm. You know Laura Clérico?”

Gaston picked up the pink rose and smelled it. “Not as well as I know her sister,” he said cagily. LeFou choked down his irritation, but was calmed when Gaston added, “It is not everyday that I get a flower from such a handsome admirer.”

Laura made a sound that may have been a cough or a hiccup, but which LeFou was sure was a strangled laugh.

“Please, who is this friend of yours?” LeFou asked, gesturing to Justin. “He looks very like you.”

Gaston presented Justin with an outstretched hand. “My son, Justin. I was just explaining to my son how I came to have this mural painted in the tavern.” He pointed up to the wall behind. For a while after the events of last year, there had been noise about covering up the bombastic mural of Gaston, but ultimately the idea had fallen by the wayside. The town no longer fawned over him, it was true, since they had found new people to fawn over. There was still something like lingering respect for Gaston among most townsfolk, but it was not the respect a town would have for its hero. It was the respect the deer had for the wolf in its midst.

“I’m sorry to have missed it.” LeFou was not truly sorry to miss the story itself, having heard it almost as many times as he had told it, but he was sorry to have missed the likely musical production that would have ensued if he had been here.

Gaston pushed a chair out with his foot. “Do join us! Justin, this is my good friend LeFou and Mademoiselle Clérico. LeFou, my son Justin. Justin, you remember the farmer boy from the story? Well, here he is!” Gaston slammed LeFou on the back a bit too hard.

“The story’s true then?” Justin asked, surprised.

LeFou and Laura joined Gaston’s table. “I can’t attest to what Gaston’s told you. He’s known to, uh, exaggerate at times.”

“I never!”

“But it is true that he saved myself and my mother, as well as the entire town.”

“How does it end?” Justin asked, suddenly seeming more eager now that the story was a confirmed truth.

LeFou cleared his throat, “And they all lived happily ever after, I imagine.”

“No, I’m serious,” Justin whined, seeming for the first time like a youth.

LeFou wanted to add that he was serious as well. Instead, LeFou laughed and said, “I imagine Gaston’s told you all the rest. It was... it was all for nothing though. The bandit that was about to kill my mother-- it’s true that Gaston killed him-- but my mother died within the year.”

Justin’s brow creased in what LeFou took as genuine concern. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Gaston leaned forward, frowning. “For _nothing_? He would have killed _you_ next.”

LeFou laughed it off. “Yes, I suppose so.”

“That’s not a joke,” Gaston rumbled.

LeFou didn’t know how to respond to that, so the silence that followed Gaston’s statement edged just into awkward before LeFou jumped up. “I’m hungry! I’ll go order food for us.” He headed to the bar.

When LeFou returned, Gaston was already telling Justin the story about the stag he had shot between the eyes.

“What do they have?” Laura asked quietly. “For food, I mean.”

“Oh! Barigoule and croquettes. I hope Justin will like the food our little town has to offer.”

Justin smiled amicably. “That sounds fine. I’m not a picky eater.”

Gaston, however, was making a face. “Barigoule,” he sneered, clearly disgusted at eating a pile of vegetables.

“Not to worry,” LeFou said proudly, “I didn’t order you any. Dimitri-- that’s the barman,” he said as an aside to Justin, “He said they were having lamb stew for tomorrow, so I asked if he could cook a shank for you.”

Gaston sat back, nodding contentedly.

“And eggs. Chicken eggs.”

Gaston tilted his head, siltently conceding that chicken eggs were better than no eggs at all.

“I also might have traded our chickens away to Katia.”

Gaston’s gaze turned sharp.

“ _My_ chickens. I mean, I gave my chickens to Katia. I’ve decided to keep ducks instead.”

When Gaston said nothing, Laura muttered, “Ours were eaten by a fox.”

A deafening silence fell over the table following her words. LeFou abhorred uncomfortable silences. But, he had this shining example of young adulthood in front of him, and realized he still knew nothing about Justin. “Justin, please, tell me about yourself. I have known Gaston a long time, as he said. I would judge you are… nineteen?” LeFou asked. LeFou had been younger than nineteen when he left for the war. Gaston, at nineteen, had already been well-traveled but was not yet close friends with LeFou.

“Sixteen,” Justin corrected.

“Sixteen?!” LaFou squeaked. If Justin was this large at sixteen, he would outgrow Gaston!

“Ah yes,” Gaston got a far away look in his eye. “LaFou, I traveled to Cair not a month before I saved you from those bandits. That means Justin was born well before we went to war.”

“Did you, ah… were you… that is…” LaFou had no idea how to ask the things he wanted to know. “Tell me about your mother,” he settled on. Then he noticed both Gaston and Laura gaping at him. He shrugged. He honestly wasn’t threatened or jealous of someone Gaston had been with seventeen years ago! He mostly was wondering-- and hoping-- that Justin had grown up with food in his belly and clothes on his back. He certainly didn’t _look_ malnourished.

“Yes,” Justin smiled wistfully, “She was quite against this trip. She actually had some less-than-lovely things to say about you, father,” Justin said.

Gaston looked very caught off guard by being called ‘father’. He stared at Justin, his jaw working like a cow chewing cud.

“But your letter,” LaFou started, before realizing that maybe he should pretend he didn’t know about the letter.

“My mother said flattery would get me into your good graces, so I went with it. I had to ask around, see if anyone had heard of you. Luckily I did meet a trader, a sort of merchant or tinkerer, in the market. He was from here and did know you. He told me a lot of stories, and said he doubted any of them were true.”

Gaston scowled over at LaFou. “Maurice,” he said.

LaFou nodded. “But that was before, I’m sure.”

“Before?” Justin asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” Gaston grumbled. “Maurice doesn’t like me, and not without reason. I just hate--” He sighed. “I am unused to being disliked.” Humility and shame were feelings Gaston still struggled with, and never more than when he was reminded that some people detested him. This likely included even some in this very tavern at this very moment.

There was enough pain of rejection in Gaston’s voice that even Laura sighed softly.

LaFou shook his head. “Don’t get down on yourself just yet, Gaston. I’m too hungry. I’ll dance for you if you like, but not until after dinner.”

This had the desired effect of eliciting a deep laugh from Gaston, who answered, “If you’re not careful I might take you up on that.” To Justin he said, “LaFou is much more than he seems. Don’t let appearances fool you; he’s got an angelic tenor and he could out-dance anyone in here in a jig. Myself excluded of course.” He slicked back his hair in pride.

“You dance?” Justin asked, brows knit. He was asking Gaston, not LaFou.

Gaston grinned. “I am a jack of all trades,” he said.

Aware that the conversation seemed to have strayed back to Gaston, LeFou interrupted with, “So your mother is still alive?”

“Oh yes,” Justin said. “She is one of the best seamstresses in Cair.”

A seamstress. That seemed like a tight budget on which to raise a child alone, but if she was one of the best even then… “Has she always been a seamstress?”

“No, no. When she fell pregnant with me, she was taken into the convent of Our Lady of the Merciful Heart in Cair.”

“A nun?” Gaston balked.

“No, just a ward. She eventually did the mending for the parish, and grew quite good at it.”

“So…” LaFou hedged, “You were raised in the midst of nuns?”

“Yes, quite.”

“In a convent?”

Justin nodded.

“You went to religious school, no doubt?”

“Yes, all my life.”

LaFou’s eyes were meeting Gaston’s across the table now, and even Laura seemed to find something in her lap quite fascinating.

“I suppose,” LaFou said, “You know your scriptures?”

“Of course,” Justin said.

It was Laura who spoke up now. “Have you read Allain de Lille? Thomas Aquinas?”

“Yes, both,” Justin said, leaning towards the table. “Are you educated in such things?”

She blushed profusely. “I… I am making an attempt. I am reading the writings of the Gallicanists.”

Justin pursed his lips, but his eyes shone. And every ounce of this conversation went over LeFou’s head. All he knew was that Justin was religious, and with the religious often came those who condemned sodomy. Another thing he caught, though, was the way Laura and Justin were now looking at each other. She was ten years his senior, but he was captivated by her, that much was clear.

Just then, their food arrived-- plates of vegetable stew for LeFou, Laura, and Justin, and a seared lamb hock for Gaston. LeFou was not the least bit surprised when Gaston bit into it to reveal its rare interior, but Justin did wrinkle his nose at the sight. It was true that Justin looked much like Gaston had at that age, but the similarities seemed to stop there. Justin was well-read, religious, urban, and apparently a bit averse to raw lamb. LeFou wondered why Justin had sought Gaston after all. He couldn’t want money, and he didn’t seem to be yearning for any sort of acceptance or direction in life. Gaston seemed to have precious little to offer the young man. Through the rest of the meal, LeFou was unable to puzzle out the answer.

Finally, their plates cleared, they settled by the fire a bit with fresh mugs of beer. Soon Justin was deep in conversation with Laura, who blushed a giggled at every turn. Gaston turned to LeFou with a lazy inebriated smile on his face. “Hey there,” he purred, draping an arm around LeFou.

LeFou, all nervousness, glanced at Justin.

“What?” Gaston groaned. “I can’t put my arm around you? I’ve been putting my arm around you for _years_ , LeFou. It’s something friends do all the time.”

LeFou looked over to where Tom, Dick, and Stanley were carrying on with a cribbage game. No one was touching anyone. “No,” LeFou said, “it’s not.”

Gaston was frowning over at the trio as well. “Well, it’s normal for me. I am affectionate to my friends.”

“You’re affectionate to _me_ ,” LeFou said.

“You worry too much,” Gaston huffed. Nevertheless, he removed his arm from around LeFou. Then, a beat later, “Why’d you give away our chickens?”

“It makes more sense for us to have ducks.”

Gaston grunted agreement.

“I think your son stole my date.”

“She’s ten years too old for him.”

“So? Belle is ten years younger than you.”

“That’s different. I’m a man.”

LeFou sighed in exasperation and decided not to embark on this particular argument. “He’s an old sixteen, and she a young twenty-six.”

Gaston nodded thoughtfully. “Do you think he can walk her home? Then we could leave.”

LeFou wasn’t sure, and his face clearly showed it. “We haven’t even known him a day. Letting him walk home a maiden…”

“You walk her home then!” Gaston snapped irritably. “I am ready to go.”

LeFou sighed and got to his feet. “Excuse me mademoiselle,” he said, addressing Laura, “but I’m afraid it is late for my old bones.”

“Oh yes, of course,” she said. Self-consciously, she rose to her feet and looked back at Gaston, who was glowering towards the fire. She began to say her farewells to Justin, and he to her, but in the midst of this exchange, the tavern door banged open and an out-of-breath Lumiere walked in. His eyes searched the crowd and lit on Gaston, in his usual seat by the fire.

“Ah, I’m so glad you were in the first place I have looked,” he said, bustling over. The bar had stilled and everyone was watching the exchange. Lumiere shook the riding dust off his fine coat and stood in front of Gaston, trying to muster a bit of formalism. “My mistress has summoned you and LeFou to the castle at your earliest convenience.”

Gaston glowered up at Lumiere and looked behind him to LeFou.

“Can… can it wait for tomorrow?” LeFou asked, interrupting the tension between Gaston and Lumiere as he scampered over to the pair.

“I think that depends,” Lumiere stated.

“On what?” LeFou asked.

“On where Monsieur Gaston is sleeping tonight,” Lumiere answered.

LeFou saw something like offense pass over Gaston’s face. Gaston stood slowly, and though Lumiere was not short, Gaston did have a few inches on him-- inches he used to look imposing. “I am sleeping in my own bed. Where I sleep every night.” It was a challenge.

Lumiere bowed. “A distressing rumor has reached the castle. I must say, it looks to be in error. I am sure you can come tomorrow to straighten this out.” He seemed genuinely contrite.

LeFou patted Lumiere’s arm. “We’ll be by first thing in the morning.”

“All the same,” Lumiere hedged. But at that moment, he saw Justin for the first time. He stopped talking, his jaw open.

“Lumiere, I see you have noticed our guest,” LeFou moved between them. “This is Justin, Gaston’s son! Justin, Lumiere is a servant of our local patron and lord, Prince Adam.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Lumiere said, bowing politely in that way he often did.

He had clearly been momentarily distracted from his purpose, but turning sky-blue eyes back upon Gaston, Lumiere persisted. “I think there is no problem, but all the same, Monsieur Gaston, it would ease my mind tremendously if I could see you home.”

LeFou saw Gaston’s jaw tense and knew Lumiere had taken his concerns a tad too far for Gaston. Gaston wouldn’t like to be escorted home like a maiden. Before Gaston could even muster verbal indignation, LeFou jumped in. “Lumiere, how fortuitous. I was just about to walk Laura home. I believe Justin is staying here at the tavern?”

Justin nodded.

“Why don’t we four walk together?”

Gaston deflated, having been saved some embarrassment by this arrangement.

Lumiere smiled. “Even better! You are clever as ever,” Lumiere proclaimed.

LeFou didn’t know about being clever, but he did know how to predict and get in front of Gaston’s worse moods. Which was probably why they were in this mess in the first place.

Once outside in the cool night air, the four started ambling towards Laura’s house. LeFou took it upon himself to mention the real reason Lumiere was there. “Lumiere, I imagine you are here to check whether Gaston has violated the single term of his probation.”

“This is my fault,” Laura sighed. “That flower was my idea.”

Gaston, still holding the pink rose, raised it aloft. He handed it magnanimously to Lumiere. “Tell your prince and princess that any worry they have on my account is misplaced.”

Lumiere smelled the rose. “What is this for?”

LeFou sighed. “It’s from me. He’s saying you can use it as proof.”

“No, I don’t need… no, keep it.” Lumiere passed it back to Gaston, who grasped it with remarkable tenderness. “I have seen all the proof I need, but I am sure the princess will still wish to speak to you.”

Gaston nodded, but his countenance was one of dejection.

They dropped Laura off first and then headed back to Gaston and LeFou’s house, where Lumiere left them on the doorstep. Once inside, Gaston sighed irritably and sank into his usual leather chair. “They all doubt me, mon ami.”

LeFou cleared his throat. “They are afraid of you.”

“But you are not afraid of me?” Gaston asked, and LeFou hated that it was a genuine question, one Gaston didn’t know the answer to.

“Never,” he said. He had been once, yes. But never again.

“And you never doubt me.”

“Not for a moment,” LeFou said.

Gaston sighed and gestured for LeFou to join him. LeFou settled on the arm of the chair, and Gaston’s arm came around him to hold him there. LeFou leaned his head on Gaston’s shoulder, and Gaston leaned into him as well. “LeFou, you are too good for me. You have such a sweet soul. You could have Laura or Stanley or anyone in the village I would guess.”

LeFou laughed. “Too bad I want you, then.”

Gaston was not laughing, though. “As long as you are with me, people will think less of you for it. They don’t say it, and some don’t think it perhaps, but most do. You can see it in their eyes.”

LeFou shrugged. “I’ve never worried about what others thought of me.” It was true-- he’d gotten used to being made fun of at a young age for his size, and rather than retreat into himself, he had retreated _out_ , making himself into a singer, a dancer, a comedian. It was freedom, in a way. If people would laugh at him no matter what he did, he could do anything he liked. He supposed that was why they called him The Fool.

Gaston grimaced. “Tomorrow we have to go to the castle and convince the _princess_ that I love you. She never fails to make me feel inadequate.”

LeFou kissed the top of Gaston’s head. “Then come to bed, mon ours, and I will make you feel adequate again.”

Gaston’s ill mood seemed to evaporate like smoke. He purred deep in his chest, and LeFou captured Gaston’s lips with his own. They both stood and stumbled headily towards the adjoining room that housed their single bed and armoire. Gaston flopped into the bed. LeFou started to disrobe, but Gaston held up a hand.

“Mon Fabien,” he said, his eyes glinting with mischief, “You told me you would dance for me after dinner.”

LeFou grinned brightly. He had said so, hadn’t he? Well, he couldn’t go back on it now.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaston and LeFou prove that sometimes it's nice when every morning's just the same, and Belle once again has a soft spot for an emotionally damaged beast.

LeFou woke the next day in his usual favorite way: head pillowed on the soft blanket of Gaston’s chest hair, listening to the rise and fall of Gaston’s breaths. From the depth of his breathing, Gaston was sound asleep still, and the tiny sliver of morning sunlight betrayed that it was still early in the day.

With the memories of the night before came the unwelcome realization that they had to report to the castle today. LeFou didn’t _mind_ the castle and found he genuinely liked Prince Adam. Princess Belle was a different matter. He thought he could like her, and almost certainly would have, if not for Gaston. There was no doubt that she thought less of LeFou just by virtue of his being connected to Gaston. But as he had told Gaston the night before, he didn’t care what she thought.

However, she was their local patroness now, so LeFou _must_ care what she thought-- of him and of Gaston. Their summons was proof of that.

He turned and wrapped his arms around Gaston, feeling Gaston stir and come up from his sleep in time to return the hug. Gaston ran his hands through LeFou’s long hair. “Morning,” he whispered into the crown of LeFou’s head.

“Sleep well?”

Gaston laughed. “I slept like the dead after all that _exercise_.”

They needed to get ready to go to the castle. LeFou wanted to not mention it, and he knew Gaston would never mention it, and they could ignore the summons and go about their lives. It would be so _easy_. Until the castle guards came to arrest Gaston… “We have to go to the castle today,” LeFou said softly.

Gaston groaned. “Breakfast first.”

“We don’t really have much. Lionel and Katia must have come yesterday and got the chickens. I forgot to buy brie yesterday. There’s a few apples--”

“I’m not having apples for breakfast,” Gaston said. “We’ll go to the market.”

“We should really--”

“Look,” Gaston said, storm clouds in his eyes, “I might have to go hither and thither wherever _Princess_ Belle tells me to, but that doesn’t mean I have to go before breakfast.” He stood and punctuated this by getting dressed. He wore an orange tie in his hair to set off an orange riding jacket worn over light breeches and a white shirt.

“Alright…”

“Why’d you trade off those chickens anyway. You _named_ them, LeFou. They are practically your pets.”

LeFou shrugged. “As I said, I was thinking ducks make more sense.” He pulled on the same blue pants he’d worn yesterday, because he still hadn’t done laundry. The shirt smelled clean enough, so he wore it again too.

“Your chickens are just going to get eaten by the same fox as theirs was.”

LeFou didn’t like to think about that. He wasn’t _terribly_ attached to the chickens, but he did like their little attitudes. “I’ll head out this afternoon and help Lionel patch their hen house.” That way at least he could see his chickens were safe.

Gaston shook his head and came around behind LeFou. Without being asked, he began to tenderly brush LeFou’s hair back into a tail, which he tied with one of his own ribbons.

“It’s no use," Gaston said from behind him, “You know foxes. If they know there’s more food, they’ll figure out how to get it.”

“What else can I do?” LeFou sounded desperate to his own ears, but he mostly felt annoyed by Gaston’s negative attitude.

Gaston turned LeFou to look at him, and LeFou noticed Gaston’s grin growing. “It’s a beautiful day for a fox hunt, don’t you think?”

Well, LeFou had to admit that would certainly take care of the fox problem.

“I’ll leave a message with the Tavern for Justin. He’ll enjoy hunting some fox with his old man, I imagine. Not, of course, that I am actually old.” He smoothed his hair in the mirror.

“Do you know if Xavier will let us use his dogs?”

Gaston shrugged. “Unless he’s out hunting our fox, I don’t see why he wouldn’t.”

They hadn’t hunted fox in a while. It was tiring business, done on foot, involving a lot of dodging through undergrowth. He wasn’t sure he had the energy for that, but it was a lovely day and Gaston _had_ wanted to hunt with Justin.

Gaston clapped LeFou on the shoulders. “Let us go, friend! There are many things to attend to today.”

*****

LeFou and Gaston walked their well-trodden path, buying a loaf of bread and a small bottle of milk from Ignace’s little storefront. LeFou waved at Gabriel, but did not need apples. LeFou enjoyed starting his day by seeing all his friends in the town. Gaston was right that many might think less of him-- not for lying with a man as he had thought they would for his whole life, but for lying with Gaston specifically. This daily walk had helped integrate Gaston back into village life, though. No one considered a well-dressed gentleman buying milk a threat.

At Ange Frère’s egg cart, Gaston bought one dozen duck eggs, while LeFou negotiated for four ducklings. It would be a couple weeks before the ducklings would be ready to go home with LeFou, and Ange charged a high price for them. “After all,” he said, “I will lose you as customers once you have your ducks! This will be hard on me!”

Gaston laughed, and it warmed LeFou’s heart to see Ange and Gaston so friendly, though Ange had always liked his best customer.

LeFou minded the purse while Gaston carried the goods. At the next booth, they met with Laura once again. Just as she did every day, she smiled, plucked out a daisy, and looped it through LeFou’s button-hole. For the very first time ever, though, she did the same to Gaston. LeFou thought he might die happy on the spot, seeing Gaston blush and splutter at the honest and innocent friendly affection of such a kind-hearted maiden.

“I really am sorry about the flower, Monsieur,” she said to Gaston.

“No, it’s lovely,” he said, fingering the daisy.

Laura laughed. “No, the rose! It got you in such trouble with the Princess. I am seeing her later today, and I will tell her the whole story.”

“Don’t trouble yourself,” LeFou said, patting her on the arm. “We’ll be seeing her shortly and I’ll explain the whole thing.”

LeFou purchased a small bundle of herbs from Laura and she curtsied her thanks. LeFou and Gaston moved on to Ghislain’s cheese cart.

“LeFou!” Ghislain said with energy, “You ran off yesterday without buying this brie! You said you would try it aged.”

LeFou passed over the right coinage, and Gaston dropped the cheese into his leather sack, along with the milk, bread, herbs, and eggs.

Their final stop was at the charcuterie, where Rene was pushing pate samples onto passers-by. Gaston took four without a hint of shame. LeFou passed on the sample, embarrassed by Gaston's mindless gluttony. Rene didn't mind though. After all, Gaston was also a good customer of Rene’s.

“So,” Gaston said, standing with his feet apart and his hands on his hips to survey the hanging meats. “We’re going fox hunting this afternoon. What do you have to recommend for our trip?”

They bought pork rilletes and thick beef sausages. Looking pleased with himself, Gaston stretched and wondered aloud, “Where do you suppose we could find Xavier at this time of day?”

“I… I don’t know,” LeFou stuttered. “Perhaps his home.”

Gaston nodded. “Go get us those dogs, LeFou! I’ll go leave a note for Justin if he is not up.” With that, Gaston marched off towards the Tavern.

Rene laughed lightly. “Monsieur LeFou, you say he treats you well, so I will believe you. But I would never let my wife talk to me the way you let him talk to you.”

“He’s not my wife,” LeFou said, frowning.

“Well, I wouldn’t talk to my wife that way either.”

“I’m not _his_ wife,” LeFou said. “Look, just-- Gaston is complicated,” LeFou said, finishing it at that. He hated that everyone was constantly questioning his relationship. It wasn’t perfect all of the time, but he would question anyone who said their relationship _was_ always perfect.

Rene shrugged, and LeFou turned towards Xavier’s house.

*****

After breakfast, they saddled their horses in silence. They both mounted and in continued silence, following the trail out of town towards the split that would take them to the castle. Still they did not speak. This was not the first time they had made this particular journey, but every time, they hoped it would be the last.

The stable boy took the reins of their horses, and LeFou ascended the stairs, Gaston dragging his feet behind. Inside, Cogsworth greeted them, and said Princess Belle was waiting in the library. LeFou led the way, but Cogsworth put a hand on Gaston’s arm to stop him.

Gaston looked down at the hand, and the expression on his face said he would like to rip it off Cogsworth’s body.

“Not you,” Cogsworth intoned in his snobby British accent. “The lady would like to see LeFou alone.”

LeFou stepped back to squeeze Gaston’s arm. Gaston visibly forced himself to relax, and LeFou continued down the corridor towards the library.

He entered the library to see Belle curled on a window seat with a book. Cogsworth announced LeFou’s arrival, and Belle placed a ribbon in her book and looked up at him with a smile. It did not reach her eyes.

“Please leave us, Cogsworth,” Belle said quietly.

Cogsworth bowed and closed the door behind him, and the sound was much too loud in the tiled room. LeFou shifted from foot to foot, feeling too large and clumsy for such a room, filled as it now was with Belle’s and Maurice’s trinkets in addition to the walls and walls (and walls!) of books.

“Please sit,” Belle said, patting the window seat next to her.

LeFou sat and wiped his sweaty hands on his trousers. “Princess--” he started.

“Do call me Belle, LeFou. We’ve known each other a while now.”

“Yes, but… Look…” LeFou didn’t know how to continue, so Belle took over.

“I just wanted to make sure you were alright. I know Gaston is a brute, and you know that I only allow him to stay in Villaneuve so long as that’s what _you_ want.”

“It is!” LeFou felt his voice quiver at the thought of losing Gaston.

“I just need to make sure he’s not forcing you to say that. I heard only yesterday that he and Katia Cleric were exchanging favors--”

“Katia _Jacquemin_ ," LeFou said, reminding Belle that Katia was married. "She _gave_ him a rose, but it was from _me_. I gave her my three chickens for that.”

Belle made an odd face. “You gave her your chickens so that she would give the man you live with a flower from you?”

“No. I mean, yes, but it’s rather more complex. Gaston has a son, you see--”

“Oh!” breathed Belle.

“Justin. He’s in town, and Gaston wants so badly to impress him.”

“And Gaston thinks getting flowers from married women is the way to do that?”

LeFou shook his head rapidly. “It wasn’t his idea. And it wasn’t for the boy, actually. Laura thought--”

“ _Laura_ was involved?”

“It was her idea,” LeFou said, his words coming rapidly. “She thought, if Gaston were to get a flower from Katia, when everyone knows Katia would never, then the villagers would know there was a subterfuge afoot.”

Belle scrunched her eyebrows. “That sounds like something I’ve seen in a book.”

“But you must understand,” LeFou continued, “Gaston can act a brute, I won’t deny, but he does love me, and I love him. There’s not a thing amiss between us. You don’t have to keep checking on us like this. I’m not staying with him under any duress.”

Belle sat back, smiling lightly.

“What?” LeFou said, exasperated.

She laughed, and the sound was like bells. “Adam said as much. He said I should leave you be. The curse can only be broken by true love, so he says, thus the love between you and Gaston _must_ be true. And true love doesn’t fade. I suppose that's its chief characteristic.”

LeFou’s mouth hung open, imagining Prince Adam defending Gaston in such a way.

“Look,” Belle said, “I have so much trouble imagining how you could possibly get on with Gaston of all people, but if you swear to me that you are not under duress, I will stop asking you about it.”

“I swear, I swear!”

“Then Gaston has escaped exile for another day,” she said with a smile. Then she called out, “Cogsworth!”

The library door opened. “Yes madam?”

“Can you show in our other guest?”

Cogsworth left, and a moment later he returned with Gaston in tow. Of course Gaston was in a mood, called into question like this, so LeFou was not the least surprised when he sneered, “So, have you decided to send me away at last? Or perhaps it’s the gallows? The guillotine?”

Belle frowned and tilted her head. “You could try and be civil, at least for our dear LeFou.”

Gaston’s eyes tracked to LeFou’s and he closed his mouth on whatever was vying to come out next. But he did not apologize or make niceties.

“Gaston,” Belle said, standing, “LeFou attests up and down to your devotion to him, to your mutual affection.” She approached him, and Gaston tried to stand even taller. His face was growing red, though whether it was with embarrassment or anger LeFou could not tell.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” he said, scowling.

Ah, embarrassment then. Gaston had difficulty admitting to Belle that he was a man besot, pierced by Cupid’s arrow, and whose choice of affections lie in another man. It was, of course, no secret, and Gaston did not treat it as such. But that was different from showing vulnerability in front of Belle.

“No,” Belle sighed, “Luckily, you don’t, because I’m not likely to believe anything you say regardless. Be thankful LeFou is happy to offer any explanations I need.”

The moment hung there, tense, and Gaston once again met LeFou’s eyes. Reddening further, he lifted his chin another fraction of an inch and said, “I have a great many reasons to be thankful for LeFou, but none of them revolves around you.”

Belle nodding, apparently satisfied. Then she said, “Monsieur Gaston, LeFou tells me you have a son who is currently in town. Might I bestow some advice upon you?”

Gaston said nothing, so Belle continued.

“I know you may have a natural inclination to show yourself in what you believe to be your best light, but take it from a child who loves her father, the ugly truth is better than a beautiful lie.”

At first, Gaston didn’t indicate that he had heard her at all. Finally, very quietly, he said, “Is that what you think this is? Ugly?”

There was deadly silence for a moment before Belle seemed to understand the implications of what she had said, and how it might have given offense. “Oh, no! That’s not what I meant. I’m completely accepting of a relationship between two men.”

“I know exactly what you meant,” Gaston said dangerously. “You meant that _I_ am ugly. That you _would_ be accepting, if LeFou was in a relationship with someone who wasn’t _me_.”

LeFou stepped forward to calm Gaston down, but Gaston held up a hand to stop him.

“I know what you think of me,” Gaston said, “And for once I agree with you. There’s nothing in heaven or earth I could do to deserve LeFou. You think that beneath the beautiful lie, I am _nothing_ , and you’re not wrong. I _am_ nothing. But how can I show my _son_ that?” His voice broke slightly on the last sentence, and LeFou flew past Belle. He gripped Gaston's firm biceps through his riding coat.

“It’s alright,” LeFou whispered, his heart hurting for Gaston. “You’re not nothing, mon ours. You’re not nothing. Anyone would be proud to to be your son.”

Gaston growled low in his chest, a sound LeFou knew meant he was trying to contain tears, unwilling to cry in front of Belle.

Belle looked on in wide-eyed shock. LeFou understood that, too. Belle had never seen Gaston’s veneer of confidence so much as falter. LeFou could still remember the first time he’d seen it. It was the first battle Gaston had commanded, and it had been a route. Gaston had never broken stride in front of the men. He was not discouraged or sad. Even as they buried their dead, he declared that now they had the enemy right where they wanted him. That night, alone with his trusty LeFou, Gaston had been unable to pretend any more. He had shattered into a million pieces, leaving LeFou to clean up the mess. LeFou knew as no one else did that Gaston appeared so confident only because he was so deeply insecure.

“I’m sorry,” Belle said quietly. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I… I didn’t know my words would wound you.”

Gaston’s breaths were coming more deeply now, and he was calming. “Hey,” LeFou said, drawing Gaston’s attention away from Belle. “Deep breaths. We have a hunt today, eh? Xavier said the dogs are ready when we are.”

Gaston nodded. “A fox hunt. I love hunting foxes.” He sighed, releasing the last of his tension.

“They’re very wiley,” LeFou said. He added, “Just like you," and poked Gaston on the nose to emphasize the point.

“No, mon ami, they’re more like you,” Gaston said, laughing. “They’re small and fluffy.”

“Oh my,” Belle breathed. She was staring at them wide-eyed. “I see it now. You two are actually very _cute_. Even _adorable_.”

At that, Gaston gathered the last shreds of his masculine dignity and declared, “I’ve had enough with standing around a _library_ being insulted.” He turned on his heels to leave, but caught his own reflection in a particularly shiny bit of some machine Belle was making, and stopped to smooth his hair. Once assured that he looked put together, he continued storming out right where he had left off.

LeFou turned and shrugged at Belle, and then began to follow Gaston.

“Wait,” Belle reached out a hand and grabbed LeFou’s arm. “I think I shall like to meet Gaston’s son. This evening perhaps? After your hunt? It could be an intimate meal.”

LeFou didn’t think he could refuse a request from a princess. He nodded, bowed, thanked her, and hurried out after Gaston.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Gaston, the fox hunt was just foreplay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, this chapter contains explicit (consensual) sex and a depiction of animal death. Plus some vomit.
> 
> I was not planning to make this story explicit because as much as I shipped these two, I could not really see their sexual life very well. That changed while writing this chapter, and I found I very much wanted to write the sex scene. So I did.
> 
> Comments give me life.

By the time Gaston and LeFou were back in town, it seemed everyone knew about the hunt. They picked up Xavier’s dogs, and Tom brought his own bitch as well. When they set out from Katia and Lionel’s house, they were a large group: Gaston, LeFou, Justin, Tom, Dick, Stanley, Gabriel, and Lionel. Gaston had provided gloves and a gun for Justin, and Stanley had lent Justin his extra boots. Justin, it turned out, had never hunted before in his life. Gaston took this as a personal affront, and as soon as the dogs were off, Gaston pulled Justin into the lead to chase them through the woodland.

LeFou, out of shape and carrying his gear as well as Gaston’s, ended up near the end of the pack. He caught up to Stanley, who seemed distracted and wasn’t trying terribly hard. Together, they jogged in breathless silence, keeping Tom, Dick, and Lionel in sight. Finally, the men in front of them slowed. This second pack had at last caught up with Gaston and Justin. Gaston had his machete out and was hacking his way deeper into the brush while the dogs bayed ahead.

“We ought to go otter hunting,” Tom called to Gaston. “Get more for them even than foxes.”

Gaston was sweaty and grunting with his exertion, but he shook his head negatively.

“Why not?” Tom asked.

LeFou answered for Gaston. “It’s better to trap otters, Tom. Less damage to their pelts.”

Gaston nodded, still hacking away.

“Oh,” Tom said. “But that’s a lot less fun.”

At that, Gaston turned and grinned at Tom, showing his gleaming white teeth. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

With one hard swipe, Gaston finally broke through the wall of thicket to a deer path, which they were able to follow unimpeded for a ways. Even Gaston was tiring now, and he was walking instead of running-- a fact for which LeFou was immensely grateful. Gaston slowed down a bit, letting Lionel and Justin take the lead for a moment while he caught his breath. Falling to the back, he seemed surprised to find himself walking next to LeFou. He stopped and held out his hand, and LeFou knew Gaston was asking for his water skin. Gaston pulled it open and took a long drink of water before splashing a bit on his face. He handed it back to LeFou without a word and started walking again. The sound of dogs grew ever nearer.

LeFou gathered his courage before Gaston could run off. “Gaston, I, uh… we’re to have dinner tonight at the castle. With Justin.”

LeFou expected anger or disappointment or anything but amusement, but Gaston, when he stopped to look back at LeFou, had laughter dancing in his eyes. “I know,” he said. “Apparently the Princess was worried we would neglect to invite Justin, so she sent Lumiere to invite him.”

“Oh.”

“I was wondering if you were planning to let me know about it,” Gaston said with a fond laugh. Lowering his voice conspiratorially, he said, “I know you won’t believe me LeFou, but between you and I, something seemed different about our visit this time. I do believe Belle may be warming up to me. I know you will think I am imagining it.”

LeFou recalled Belle’s words. _I see it now. You two are actually very cute. Even adorable._ “Huh,” LeFou said, “I can’t imagine what gave you that impression.”

“Just instinct,” Gaston answered, shrugging. He started to run off and then stopped suddenly, seeming to see LeFou for the first time. “My God, LeFou, why are you carrying two packs?”

“One is yours.”

By the look of shocked horror on this face, Gaston had only now realized that LeFou had carried Gaston’s pack on countless hunting trips. Gaston had _never_ carried one. Gaston reached out his hand. LeFou passed Gaston’s pack over to him. Gaston shouldered it and stuck out his hand again.

It took LeFou a moment to realize Gaston was asking for LeFou’s pack. Slowly, as though faced with a mirage that might vanish if startled, LeFou passed his own pack over. Gaston shouldered it as well, then winked, turned, and disappeared back up the trail.

*****

It was about another hour of traipsing through the woods before LeFou, still at the back and this time alone, heard the shot of a gun reverberate through the trees. The leaves overhead shook with alighting birds. LeFou jogged a bit to catch up with the group just in time to see Gaston slit a fox’s throat with his hunting knife.

LeFou pushed through the small group. “Xavier wanted the meat. That was to be his pay for letting us use his dogs,” he said between attempts to catch his breath.

Gaston looked up and shrugged, then settled to the ground to field dress the fox. “I can’t imagine anyone so hard off they’d want to eat a fox,” he said. “It’s hardly worth the effort. But if that’s his price…” Within minutes, the fox was dressed. Gaston slung the carcass over one shoulder. Justin then promptly threw up into a bush. Gaston frowned momentarily at Justin’s reaction, but Gaston got such a high from hunting that nothing could easily trouble him.

He opened the arm not holding the fox wide, “Friends, thank you for the wonderful hunt. Now we need to hurry back! I’d let to fit in some amorous congress before seeing the Princess for dinner.” He slipped through the group and threw an arm around LeFou’s shoulders, smiling down at the shorter man.

LeFou sensed the strain of the group of men, noticing Tom and Dick frown at each other. Stanley’s brows went up, but of course they knew by now that Stan was like them. Lionel seemed to find something on the ground very interesting. Gabriel, something in the sky. Justin was trying to rinse vomitus out of his mouth and thankfully hadn’t even noticed the slip. Gaston seemed oblivious to the impact his declaration had on the group. Most of the villagers had been convinced to turn a blind eye to their relationship because LeFou was the only one who could keep Gaston under control. That didn’t mean these men wanted to have images of Gaston and LeFou having sex in their heads.

The walk back was, in fact, quite a bit shorter than the walk out had been. For one, they were able to walk directly toward town along a well-trod path instead of following dogs who were following the scent of a fox. Foxes never had the decency to run in straight lines. In the town, the group split off in their various directions. Justin begged leave to return to the Tavern and bathe before dinner. Gaston and LeFou walked to their own house, followed by Xavier's well-trained dogs. If they were walking quickly, LeFou hoped no one would blame them. Gaston has been walking the entire way into town with a hard-on. LeFou knew that well because Gaston kept finding reasons to brush it up against him.

At their house, Gaston first went around back to hang the fox in the shed. LeFou was sitting at the table, drinking water, when Gaston returned. As soon as the door shut behind Gaston, he dragged LeFou out of his chair and pushed him up against the wall. Gaston was ripping LeFou’s clothes off hard enough to tear the fabric. LeFou welcomed the ardor, and met Gaston’s lips with his own. His fingers trembled in anticipation as he tried to undo Gaston’s many fine buttons.

Once LeFou managed to lay a hand on Gaston’s erection, Gaston hauled him bodily towards the bed. He threw LeFou down. His hand went to the armoire and came out with a small container of lard, which he worked between his fingers and then spread on his own erection. He was growling low in his throat.

LeFou was ready. He had known this was coming all morning. It was generally true of Gaston that he fucked after hunting, and ‘fuck’ was the right word. Sometimes Gaston was all tenderness, truly. But after a hunt was not one of those times. In the before-time, before the castle and the curse, he would come back from a hunt eager to bed any woman who looked at him. Now, in the after, it was of course LeFou. And LeFou did not mind in the least. Sometimes a man wanted tenderness, but sometimes he just wanted his lover's massive hands on him, leaving bruises and bites. And so Gaston held LeFou down, ass up, and entered him quickly. His strong arms wrapped around LeFou and one hand settled on LeFou’s erection, moving it in rhythm with the snap of his own hips. His lips traced tender arcs across LeFou’s back and neck. He spoke non-stop, but much of what he said was unintelligible. Occasionally, LeFou would understand words, “hot”, “big”, “fuck”, and his own name: Fabien. In bed he was never ‘LeFou’, but _mon Fabien mon Fabien mon Fabien_ , spoken to the rhythm of Gaston’s thrusts.

LeFou came first, crying out and blindly grasping at the sheets with clawed hands as his vision blacked out momentarily. The sound spurred Gaston on and he picked up his pace. His strong arms now lifted LeFou almost off the bed with every thrust, so he was not pumping into LeFou so much as moving LeFou along his eager shaft. He growled and moaned and LeFou braced for it-- there it was. Gaston sunk his teeth into LeFou’s shoulder, stifling a scream. LeFou did not contain his own cry as his shoulder and ass both throbbed with his pounding heart.

Gaston grunted again and then withdrew from LeFou’s body. He tenderly kissed the bite mark and fell heavily onto the bed, sighing. LeFou understood-- the entire thing, the hunt, the kill, the blood running over Gaston’s fingers and the sharpness of the knife, the walk back with an eager cock-- that was Gaston’s foreplay. Only now did Gaston come down from the hours of growing lust. Gaston was boneless and limp and this was also when he was sodden drunk in love.

“LeFou,” he whispered, smiling, “You are my sun. You are the meaning in my life. You are as bright as the day and as beautiful as the night sky.”

LeFou turned onto his back, his chest still heaving from the effort of trying to catch his breath. He did not answer. He knew he didn’t need to, and sometimes it was nice to lay back, well fucked, and listen to praise.

Gaston rolled onto one side to see LeFou and began tracing patterns into LeFou’s chest hair. “You are the only person who understands me. How beautiful it is to be understood.”

LeFou turned to meet Gaston’s eyes.

“Mon Fabien,” Gaston continued, threading his own hand through LeFou’s and kissing his knuckles one by one. “Without you I would be better off dead than alive. There is no life without you.”

LeFou sighed, closing his eyes. “You are too much,” he said laughing.

But Gaston was not in a joking mood. “No, my love, I am not enough. I can never hope to be enough.”

They lay in silence for a while, Gaston’s fingers still threaded through LeFou’s.

Finally, at the cusp of sleep, LeFou sighed. “If I fall asleep here, we will be naked at dinner. I haven’t done laundry in a week.”

Gaston laughed and sat up. “I also have a fox to skin, and then I have to bring the meat to Xavier along with his dogs. Plus a bath.”

“Plus a bath,” LeFou echoed, smiling at Gaston. He hauled himself out of bed and fished out some untorn dirty clothes to wear to the well. Suddenly, well-fucked and still riding the high of Gaston’s tenderness, LeFou didn’t care about being seen at the well washing Gaston’s clothes. He relished the thought. He wanted to see every single woman who had been bedded by Gaston or who had wished to be, wanted to show them that it was he, _LeFou_ , who was the object of Gaston’s affection now. Now and forever.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> POV switch! Dinner at the castle. Justin discovers the relationship between LeFou and Gaston. Also, smut reappears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your feedback is so lovely, I find myself reading and re-reading comments throughout the day as a pick me up, and posting new chapters to get more comments. So yes, apparently the more you comment the faster I write.

Justin was freshly bathed and dressed in his only fine suit, which was of a dusty purplish grey. He stood in front of the Tavern, awaiting the arrival of his guest. He hoped he could bring a guest, and that it was not a problem that he had asked Laura Cleric. If she was still entangled with his father’s friend, Justin assumed she would have refused to accompany him to dinner.

She came around the corner and took his breath away. She was fair, with daisies braided into her yellow hair. She wore a dress of cotton and sky blue satin. It had to cost a fortune. She approached him, smiling, and curtsied.

“Mademoiselle,” he said, offering his arm. “Would you care to wait inside with me? Lumiere said he would fetch us in the carriage.”

“The carriage,” she said breathlessly, and he laughed at her blushing cheeks.

Just then, a cart rounded the corner. In it sat his father, dressed in deep reds and leather, steering the most magnificent horse Justin had ever seen. Next to his father in the box sat his father’s friend, LeFou. Justin had difficulty understanding LeFou. The man always seemed to be around. Justin wondered if his father might have hired LeFou on as a servant, or perhaps poor LeFou simply had no other friends.

As the cart pulled up, LeFou scrambled into the back.

“Are you ready to go then?” Gaston asked, frowning down at him. “Is Laura coming?”

“I’ve asked her to accompany me,” Justin answered, “That is, if she is no longer attached to Monsieur LeFou.”

LeFou balked, and Laura laughed delightedly. “No, I am free to accompany you,” she said quietly.

“But Lumiere is sending the coach for us,” Justin corrected, feeling strange about his father driving in an old cart while he was going to be afforded a royal carriage. Surely the carriage could fit four people. “You could wait for it with us.”

Gaston scowled. “If Lumiere didn’t send it for us, I think it’s safe to assume we’re not expected to ride in it.” He turned the cart around, “See you there,” he said, waving absently as LeFou climbed back over the seat and the cart bumped down the road.

Justin turned to Laura. “Is there bad blood between my father and Lumiere?”

Laura shrugged. “In a manner of speaking.”

“Why do I get the feeling there is a story hiding here?” he asked.

She smiled. “There is. But it’s not mine to tell.”

At that moment, a gilded ornate carriage rounded the corner. Lumiere waved from the driver’s box, and a red-nosed old man climbed slowly down to open the door for them. He helped Laura into the carriage tenderly, and she blushed and called him ‘Cogsworth’. Once Justin was seated, they had to wait for old Cogsworth to climb back up to the box, and Lumiere turned them around.

The carriage glided with impossible comfort over the bumpy road as Justin settled back into his cushioned seat. Thanks to the smooth ride, the castle loomed in what seemed only minutes. Justin hopped out of the carriage without waiting for Cogsworth to open the door. He held his hand out and helped Laura down as well.

“Come in, come in,” Lumiere gestured to the staircase.

Justin came around the carriage and saw that his father’s cart and horse were being tended to by a stable boy.

Inside, Justin marveled at such beauty and finery. Having been raised in a convent, he was used to more austere surroundings. This place! It was dizzying. Laura took his elbow and gently steered him in the direction of the parlor.

It was here in the parlor he first met Prince Adam and Princess Belle. They were sitting on a settee together. Gaston sat in a large armchair. LeFou was sitting at a window seat that was high enough he could dangle his feet from it.

The tension in the air was so thick he could have cut it with a knife. Laura released his arm and went to sit by LeFou. Justin felt a pang of annoyance at this-- was this man going to follow them _everywhere_? Why was he even invited tonight? What was his connection with Laura? She insisted they were not romantic, but why then did she go immediately sit next to him?

After a moment, the Princess cleared her throat loudly and said, “Gaston, could you please introduce us to your guest.”

Gaston was glaring daggers at the Princess and he didn’t even stand up or pretend to sound animated when he said, “Justin, _Princess_ Bell and _Prince_ Adam. Your _Majesties_ , my son Justin.”

“Honestly,” Belle sighed. “Could you please stop making our titles into insults?”

“I’m not,” Gason retorted.

“You are so… so…” The Princess was at a complete loss for words, waving her hands in frustration.

Her husband laid his hand over hers and said magnanimously, “How about we all go by first names tonight? I think we all know each other well enough for that, surely.”

Gaston simply glowered at the Prince. What was his name? Adam? Justin was getting the distinct impression that he had walked into the middle of a powder keg unawares. Luckily they were rescued from trying to make more small talk by the announcement that dinner was ready. Lumiere lead them to a room larger than any Justin had ever seen, covered in shining wood and glittering light from chandeliers. Justin almost missed his chair, so busy was he staring upwards in awe.

Justin was surprised to notice the table seating: the Prince at one end and the Princess at the other. Justin himself was seated to the right of the Prince, and to Justin's right was LeFou. Laura sat between Belle and Gaston. The seating arrangement was awkward as Justin and Laura had come as a couple and Adam and Belle were a couple, and in a six person dinner table this paired off Gaston and LeFou. From what Justin knew of Gaston’s masculine prowess, he thought his father might be angered by this, but Gaston didn’t pay it any attention.

The food rolled out, course by course, and for a while no one had much chance to talk, though Belle and Adam both engaged Justin in conversation about his upbringing and education. The Prince had attained the height of his education, but surprisingly Belle was also very learned, having been taught by her father.

“I’m sorry he couldn’t be here to meet you,” Belle said. “He’s selling his wares in a different town.”

“Oh, I have met him, or at least I think I have.” He looked to Gaston for confirmation. “Is he the one you called Maurice?”

Gaston nodded. He hadn’t spoken much at dinner.

“Then yes, he’s the one who led me to my father. I was in the market, and he called me over and said I looked very like someone he knew from here. He asked if I knew who my father was, and I said that my mother had called him Gaston. From there, he spilled like a bucket. I’m afraid he didn’t gave many nice things to say about my father. But he did give me the directions I needed to visit.”

Adam sighed. “Maurice and Gaston have a… history.”

Gaston groaned, but didn’t speak.

“Maybe it’s for the best Maurice is not here,” LeFou said. 

“Perhaps,” Belle agreed.

Wanting to change the subject, Justin said, “Princess, Laura tells me you have taken it upon yourself to teach anyone in the village to read who wants to know how.”

“Yes,” Belle said with a smile, “though I’m afraid it’s precious few. Laura is one of the good ones. Most villagers are pretty simple. They don’t see any use in it.”

“That’s a pity,” Justin said, “My greatest pleasures in life have been found between the covers of books.”

Adam smiled. “I quite agree. Gaston, your boy here is a treasure.”

“You mean he’s not much like me,” Gaston quipped darkly.

“I didn’t say that,” Adam said sternly, and thankfully Gaston dropped the subject. The more Justin got to know his father, the more he cringed whenever Gaston opened his mouth. Anything that came out was as likely to be embarrassing or confrontational as anything else. Justin’s mother had warned him about this, and told him it was a good thing that he was not much like Gaston. Sitting at this dinner table, Justin did tend to agree. He only had to make nice for one more day, and then he would feel justified in asking Gaston to sign the army commission forms allowing Justin, as the son of an officer, to jump ranks upon enlistment. That was truly the only reason he was here.

Trying to steer the conversation back to neutral territory, Belle said, “I think the farmers and craftsmen in the village just don’t _care_ to read. They have small minds, and their small minds are reflected in their small ideas. Present company excluded of course,” Belle said, smiling in particular at Laura, who was blushing.

“How much of the present company is excluded?” Gaston growled.

“Oh come,” Belle said, “You can read, Gaston. I’ve seen you do it, once or twice. You also aren’t a farmer or craftsman. Your father was a merchant like my own, though I think he made his money is less reputable ways. And you were schooled on the road with him, were you not?”

Gaston met Belle’s eyes from down the table. “Allow me to clarify. Yes, I can and do read. Do you consider anyone who cannot read to be small minded? Particularly farmers or craftsmen?”

“Their world _is_ small,” Belle insisted. “It must be so. They don’t want anything more for themselves. ”

A quiet voice spoke up from next to Justin, and he had all but forgotten LeFou’s presence. “Gaston, don’t,” the small man whispered downwards towards his soup.

In response, Gaston stood, throwing down his napkin. “I’m not going to sit here and let them insult you this way,” he said. “I won’t do it.” He stormed off.

Belle gasped, covering her mouth with her hands and turning large, watery eyes to LeFou. “Oh, I’m… I… LeFou…” Her voice dripped with such pity. “I didn’t know you couldn’t read. I didn’t--”

LeFou cleared his throat and spoke, looking at the table, unable to meet a single eye. “It’s alright. My parents _were_ farmers. Their world was small. My world is even smaller.” He shrugged. “And you’re also right that I don’t want anything more for myself. I am perfectly content. Please excuse me.” He rose from the table slowly and followed Gaston out.

Belle released a feral sound of frustration. “Why do I always _do_ this? This morning I insulted Gaston, and this evening it’s LeFou!”

Adam sighed and rubbed his brow. “It is unfortunate that none of us thought of LeFou. I don’t think you said anything terribly insulting, but, well, we’ve all seen Gaston’s temper. Last year...” Adam opened his hand, leaving the words unfinished. “Gaston needs to get used to being insulted, I think. He's earned a few.”

“Is anyone ever going to tell me what happened?” Justin asked, tired of being kept in the dark. “Everyone alludes to some incident involving my father, but no one will tell the tale.”

“It wasn’t mine to tell,” Laura said defensively.

“No,” Adam said, “it is mine. Let’s have another round of wine, and then I will tell you a story.”

*****

LeFou rushed out of castle, following Gaston down the stairs and into the cool night air. He found Gaston just as Gaston entered the small stable and plucked a curry comb from the wall. He approached Magnifique and began grooming his horse with perhaps too much enthusiasm.

“Gaston,” LeFou said.

Gaston did not answer, but simply brushed harder.

“Gaston!”

Only when Magnifique turned to nip at Gaston’s overexertion did Gaston seem to hear LeFou. He spun. “I wish they would come at me with fists or knives, something I could counter. But this… this always being attacked with _words_. How do you defend yourself from that?”

“I thought you defended me rather well, actually,” LeFou said. “You spoke your piece and left before your temper got the best of you.”

Gaston turned back to Magnifique, though this time his strokes were gentler. “They’re wrong, LeFou,” Gaston said quietly. “You’re one of the least small-minded people I know.”

LeFou shook his head. “I really don’t care. I don’t care if they call me small-minded or if they think me a simpleton.” He approached Gaston and laid his hand on Gaston’s shoulder. “I’m happy. I live in a town I love, with the man I love. I don’t need a book to tell me I’m happy.”

Gaston’s breathing slowed and he set the comb down. He turned and pressed his forehead against LeFou’s. His lips found LeFou’s, and the kiss was tender. “You,” Gaston breathed. “You never cease to amaze me.” He gripped LeFou’s face between his broad hands in order to pull LeFou’s mouth closer to his own. Then LeFou found himself being dragged out of Magnifique’s stall and into the central aisle of the stable. Gaston turned him so that his back was to the stall, and then… _oh_. Gaston dropped to his knees in the aisle.

This was not something Gaston did frequently, and LeFou assumed Gaston didn’t love it, but in the yellow lamplight, Gaston’s eyes looked hungrily up at LeFou as he unfastened LeFou’s breeches. LeFou’s large erection finally sprung free, and he shivered at the cold of the night air before Gaston set his lips to the tip. Gaston licked gently once, twice… then he opened his mouth and let LeFou’s manhood slip inside.

LeFou leaned his head back against the cold rails and focused on the sensation of Gaston’s playful, braggadocious mouth moving along his shaft. LeFou’s hand found the softness of Gaston’s hair, and he lost himself to the rhythm of noises. Gaston, the imposing hunter and soldier, was on his knees on the dirt floor of a horse barn. With a shiver, LeFou came hard, and Gaston didn’t falter. His cheeks hollowed out as he swallowed, swallowed, swallowed, making delicious humming noises all the while.

LeFou thought he might pass out. His knees we rubber. He saw Gaston wipe his face on one sleeve before Gaston pulled up LeFou’s breeches and fastened them back on. Gaston used his strong hands to help support LeFou as the smaller man’s strength began to falter. Gaston laughed at LeFou’s almost drunken state. “I quite like you like this. Perhaps I should do that more often.”

LeFou wanted to make some quip in agreement, but it was useless; his wits had abandoned him.

“Come on,” Gaston said with a sigh, “I suppose we better go back inside. Or else we'll just be summoned here tomorrow for Belle's apology.”

“Hmm mmm,” was all the answer LeFou could muster.

*****

Justin sat, this mouth agape. Adam had said this was the shorter version, but still, Justin couldn’t help but marvel at the story of Adam’s transformation to a beast and then back again to a man with the help of Belle. His own father’s villainous role in the events of last year shamed him greatly. And now Gaston came here to Adam and Belle’s home and huffed and puffed about taking offense? It was really too much. He considered his commission papers, though, and thought he better not speak his mind to his father until after he had Gaston’s signature.

At the end of the story telling, Laura stood wearily. “I suppose I will go check on LeFou,” she said.

Justin nodded. “I will go see where my father has got to.” He stood and almost without thinking took Laura’s hand. In the hallway, Cogsworth directed them outside. Once in the cool night air, Laura moved in the dark.

“Where are you going?” Justin asked.

“The stable,” Laura said. “Maybe they are harnessing the horse to go home.”

Justin nodded. They rounded the corner to the stable. Sounds came from within the stable: the soft snuffle of horses, the movements of hay. A single lantern was lit, though whether it was left by the stable boy or brought by Gaston or LeFou, they couldn’t know. Something was moving in the aisle as well, and at first look Justin thought maybe a horse was tied there. Then Laura, next to him, thrust a hand in her mouth and began pulling him away. “What--” he began. His eyes were still trying to figure out the puzzle before him.

And then all at once his brain was able to put together the pieces, and he saw it. He saw his father on his knees, mouth wrapped around LeFou’s manhood. Revulsion rose within him, then anger. He made to stride forward, but Laura was gripping his arms tightly. He looked down into her eyes and saw something like sheer terror. _Yes_ , Justin though, _she is right_. If Gaston knew they had caught him acting like a common alley whore, their lives might be in danger.

“Please,” Laura whispered. “Please just leave them be.”

Justin nodded and let Laura drag him back up the steps. He was in shock, and his hands and feet felt numb, but he allowed her to drag him all the way back to the dining room.

“What’s wrong?” Belle asked at their reappearance.

Justin couldn’t find words, though his mind was trying to. What could he say?

“Um, we found them,” Laura said quietly.

“Are they leaving?” Belle asked.

“Not exactly,” Laura whispered. “They were, um, in the stable. In a compromising position.”

Belle’s hand covered her mouth, though a laugh escaped before she was successful.

Adam stood. “Oh for christ's sake,” he said, “this castle has about thirty bedroom and they choose the stable.”

“What are you doing?” Belle asked.

“I’m going to haul them in here and give them a room! I don’t want it said that guests at my castle had to contain their amorous affections to the _stable_.”

“Maybe…” Laura’s voice caught in her throat for a second, and then she continued. “Maybe you should give them a minute.”

Adam blushed quite red and he said, “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

“Excuse me,” Justin declared, “Why is it that this development doesn’t seem to surprise or upset anyone besides myself?” He felt he already knew the answer.

“Oh Justin,” Belle sighed. “I told him he should tell you the truth. It really ought to come from him but, well, I don’t suppose it can be helped now. Sit, and we can finish the story.”

“Finish?” Justin was confused. At the end of the story, Adam had returned to human form and Belle had agreed to be his wife. Didn’t that about cover it?

“You see,” Belle said, “the entire thing has worked once. An egotistical and narcissistic man had learned the value of seeing beneath the surface, and in doing so had found true love.” She smiled fondly at Adam. “I suppose the enchantress thought, why could it not work twice?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin knows everything. What happens next?

As soon as he and Gaston re-entered the dining room, LeFou knew something had changed. The room was ominously quiet, and each of the occupants seemed to be looking at the others for their cue. The exception to this was Justin, who was looking down in his lap, fists clenched. There was a storm brewing here.

Belle rose immediately. “LeFou,” she said, “I owe you an apology. I am so sorry. This makes me realize I understand perhaps less about the village than I should. I spend all my time thinking of what I can teach the villagers, and I never thought about what you could teach me. Laura has promised to be my instructor in this,” she said. Her eyes were large and watery and her emotions clearly sincere.

LeFou touched Belle’s arm gently. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. It was a non-issue to LeFou, truly. He had been made fun of all his life for one thing or another, and insults rolled off his back. Gaston was not as skilled at letting things slide, as unused as he was to being on the butt end of a joke. “Laura will be a good teacher,” LeFou added.

Surprisingly, Justin growled out, “What is your connection to Mademoiselle Cleric? Belle claims you are of sound conscience. How then can you besmirch such a woman with your friendship?”

LeFou’s mouth dropped open as he turned to look at Justin. The storm had broken, it seemed. LeFou had no idea what Justin’s words meant to imply, but he saw tears forming in Laura’s eyes, and that was really too much for him.

Even as LeFou was composing a response in his head, Gaston stepped forward, hand balled in sure sign he was about to punch Justin. And yet, before Gaston could let fly, Adam stood and hammered his hand on the table. “Enough!” he called, and his usually mild-mannered voice echoed through the room as though he was the beast once more. He pointed directly at Gaston. “I swear on my mother’s grave that if you touch this young man in my house, an army of enchantresses couldn’t save you from the gallows.”

Gaston looked about to explode with rage, but Adam turned his outstretched finger on Justin. “And you,” he said. “Never forget that you are also a guest, not only in this house, but in this town. I am the lord here, and I have decreed already that if any are to speak out against Gaston or LeFou, they must speak out using more well-founded charges than outdated religious notions of propriety or marriage. To condemn them for their relationship is heresy unto God.”

Justin, Gaston, and LeFou all balked at this announcement. LeFou was only now understanding that they had been found out by Justin, and Gaston seemed to be having the same realization. Justin’s surprise had a different source. “Of course!” he cried, “You are a Gallicanist! Do you really think your own local interpretation of scripture is equal to His Holiness's?” Outrage colored Justin’s expression.

“If you are asking whether I forbid the excommunication of these men from the church, then yes. However, I don’t need to countermand His Holiness’s words with my own, for I have a higher dictum. Does not _God’s_ word say, ‘Hatred stirreth up strifes: but love covereth all sins.’? Therefore I _cannot_ ,” he banged his hand on the table once again for emphasis, “I _cannot_ abide the disparagement of love. It goes against the dearest beliefs of my heart. And so long as I rule this small valley, my word is law.”

In the moments after Adam’s speech, the only sounds were the rustling of Belle’s skirt as she ran towards Adam. He was breathing hard and was uncharacteristically red in the face. She took his arm, squeezing it, then clasped his hand in hers. Her eyes were large with regret when she turned to Justin. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I think you had better go.”

Justin strode out without a backward glance, and LeFou turned to follow him. “No!” Adam said. “Not you. I’ll have Lumiere show you to a room. It’s late.”

LeFou exchanged a wary glance with Gaston. Was Gaston included in Adam’s invitation? It wasn’t terribly clear. “Thanks but, I think I’ll stay with Gaston,” LeFou said.

Belle sighed with frustration. “You’ll have a room together, of course. We can sort all of this out in the morning. Laura, you’ll have a room too.”

Gaston cleared his throat, and his voice sounded odd when he said, “You want me to stay? Here? In the castle?”

“Well,” Adam said, “Laura told us you took a liking to the stable so if you’d prefer it, be my guest. But we’ve no shortage of rooms.”

“I definitely don’t prefer the stable,” LeFou said quickly, before Gaston had the chance to put his foot in his mouth.

Adam nodded. “Cogsworth will see to everyone. If you excuse me, I have to go…” He didn’t seem to have anyway specific to say, so he finished with, “I would just like to be alone.”

When he left the room, Belle went with him, leaving LeFou, Laura, and Gaston to process the situation. Laura spoke first. “Monsieur,” she pleaded to Gaston, “He’s a good man. Just young. He hasn’t seen much beyond the stone walls of a _convent_. Please don’t judge him too harshly.”

Gaston looked at Laura for a long time, and then said only, “Did he see us?”

She turned very red and nodded, averting her gaze towards the floor.

Gaston took a deep breath in and then turned to LeFou with false bravado. “Come LeFou, let us see what amenities such a fine estate has to offer lowly townsfolk like ourselves.”

LeFou said, “I hope there’s strong drink.”

Gaston laughed. “My dear LeFou, have you _seen_ Cogsworth’s nose? I’d wager this place has an entire room lined with brandy.”

“Let’s find that one first.”

*****

In the end, Gaston and LeFou did end up in the wine cellar, and not alone. Adam found them there, well into their third bottle of burgundy. For a moment, LeFou was worried that Adam would lecture them on overdoing the drink or send them to their rooms like children. Instead, he sighed and slumped into one of the chairs at the little tasting table.

Gaston made a show of pouring Adam a glass, and then raised his own. “To Prince Adam, whose rousing speeches can almost make _me_ believe God approves of me. And I haven’t believed in God for a very long time.”

Adam shrugged and drank the entire glass at once.

“Truly,” Gaston said, “You missed your calling as a priest.”

That did elicit a laugh from Adam. “I’ve always cared too much for the female form for that to be in the cards.”

Gaston poured Adam a new glass and then raised his own in another toast, “To the female form. Long may it live to derail the lives of honorable men.”

Adam laughed again and shook his head. “I wouldn’t call my own life derailed. Nor yours honorable.”

“You wound me,” Gaston said without rancor.

“What does Justin know?” LeFou asked quietly.

“Everything,” Adam said. “I told him everything.”

Gaston leaned forward, and he was not joking now. “You told him everything?”

“Well not… No, not at first. But after my story, he went out to look for you and--”

“Found us in a compromising position,” LeFou added.

“I can’t imagine what you were getting up to in the stable-- and I don’t want to know, mind you-- but that poor boy looked like he’d seen a ghost.”

LeFou met Gaston’s eyes. It would not have been a great vision for a sixteen-year-old no matter who was involved, but seeing his own father--

LeFou cleared his throat and forced himself to smile at Adam. “Thank you for trying,” he said. “He was raised in a convent. It’s probably a hopeless case.”

Adam shrugged. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the past year, it’s that no case is hopeless.” He raised his glass to Gaston’s again. “To hope.”

Gaston looked distinctly uncomfortable, but he tapped his glass to Adam’s and drank all the same.

*****

Justin stared blankly out of the carriage window all the way back to the Tavern. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw his father on his knees in the stable. Lumiere was quiet while bidding him goodnight, and Justin nodded, slinking up to his room as quickly as possible. He took off his fine suit and let down his hair. After pulling on his nightgown, he sank onto the mattress and pillow. He blew out the candle.

All evening he had been fighting the emotions rising within him. He couldn’t even name them-- revulsion, rejection? Disappointment, despair? He was only here to get his army papers signed, really, but in the past two days he thought maybe, just maybe, his father was someone he could learn to like in small amounts. Justin was not eager to ever hunt again, but the night in the Tavern hadn’t been all bad. None of that was the problem though. The problem was that…

In fact he wasn’t sure what bothered him. Was it that his father was intimate with a man? That the man was LeFou? That his father had prostrated and defiled himself? Or was it the lie? Not two days ago, LeFou had been at the Tavern with Laura on his arm. Gaston had received a rose from some fire-eyed damsel. And after the hunt, hadn’t his father said something about love-making?

Justin rolled over and covered his head with a pillow. In the morning, he would leave. That was all there was for it. He guessed Gaston would never sign his papers now regardless, and everything about being here made him feel small and strange. He looked too much like his father. He was a facsimile, and not himself. His mother was right-- he should have never come.

He slept, and in his dreams he was a child, and he had a father. A dark-haired, strong man dragged him hunting and camping despite his protests of wanting to sit and read. A shorter, fatter man was there too, teaching him how to mend the fletching on an arrow, how to wire a trap. He did careful things with his fat fingers, things that took patience, things his father would never have had the patience to do.

Justin awoke with tears on his pillow and a renewed desire to get far, far away from this provincial town.

*****

Gaston awoke in the way he liked best, his arms wrapped around LeFou and a soft pillow cushioning his head. He felt the rising and falling of LeFou’s chest against his own, and his arms reached out to pull the other man closer. The bed seemed too large this morning.

Gaston’s eyes snapped open. The bed _was_ too large. He sat up, dumping LeFou unceremoniously off of him. LeFou began to wake, but Gaston was already getting up and pulling on his clothes. He did not miss the dirt stains on the knees of his breeches, but what could he do about that now?

“LeFou!” he almost shouted. Then, as LeFou stirred only slowly and Gaston remembered how heavily they drank with Adam the night before (Ha! They _drank_ with Adam!), Gaston leaned closer and spoke more gently. “LeFou, I’m going to take Magnifique and go into town.”

LeFou groaned.

“I have to catch Justin. It’s possible he will not want to see me, but I have to try before the coach comes.”

LeFou opened one eye and asked with a scratchy voice, “Do you think he’ll leave?”

Gaston grimaced, but could not answer. “I can’t say what he might do, but do I not owe it to him to try and talk to him?”

LeFou watched Gaston with one eye for a moment longer before the other opened up. “Wait a moment, I’ll dress as well.”

“Nonsense, you sleep. This is something I have to do alone.”

“If you are sure.”

“I am sure, mon Fabien. Sleep.” Gaston pressed a kiss to LeFou’s brow and ran from the room.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaston confronts Justin one final time. Adam gets good news. Gaston gets an unlikely job offer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of this fic is in sight, and I'm saddened by that, so I kind of stretched out the plot in favor of more verbal sparring because that's the best and the most fun to write.

Gaston did not knock. He tried the knob of Justin’s tavern bedroom, and found the door locked. He could hear movement across the floorboards from within the room. Only then did he bang on the wood. “I know you’re in there.” 

“Then you also know I don’t want to talk to you,” the boy answered.

Gaston tried to suppress a growing frustration. “I also know I can break down this door.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would.” Gaston lay his hand against the wood, gauging whether there was any dry rot, and wound up his arm to smash it down. Before he was able to wail on the wood, he heard the snick of the lock being undone.

Justin opened the door and scowled. “You’re right. You’re just arrogant enough to think doors don’t apply to you. You would break my door as easily as you broke through Prince Adam’s, wouldn’t you? Who would dare close a door on Gaston?”

Gaston felt anger rising in his chest. He tried to remember how to stay calm, the tricks LeFou had taught him. The deep breaths did not calm the anger inside of him, but he at least felt he could proceed without smashing his son’s head against the wall.

Justin was standing in the doorway, clearly meaning to block Gaston’s entry, but that was no real obstacle. Gaston pushed Justin aside without any exertion and closed the door behind him. “So,” Gaston said, eyeing the mostly-packed suit case, “I imagine you’re leaving on the morning coach?”

“Yes, and I should never have come,” Justin said. “My mother warned me that you were the most egotistical person she had ever met, and I couldn’t agree more. You are selfish all the way to the core.”

Gaston was frustrated with these repetitive insults. He prowled around the room, still trying to calm his bunching muscles. “And yet,” he said, “you knew I was selfish even before you came here, as you said! You knew I was arrogant days ago, but you are leaving only now. It seems to me that you are angry at me for the one selfless thing I have done with my life-- fall in love.”

“I am not,” Justin replied.

Gaston smiled tightly. “I’m sorry you had to find out that way.” There, that was what he came to say.

“You were… I saw you… you were--”

Gaston grinned. “I was being selfless.” He was pleased with his little joke.

“And he… and you…”

Gaston, still pacing the room, noticed a paper set carefully next to Justin’s bag. “Ah,” he said, nodding. “So this is why you were here. That makes more sense now.” He held the enlistment papers up. “Have you a quill?”

“You’ll sign it?” Justin asked.

“You could have asked on the first evening and I would have signed it. These papers merely testify to your parentage, which, given your devilishly good looks, can hardly be in question.”

Justin passed over a quill and ink pot with a shaking hand. Gaston dipped the quill and signed the papers, saying, “Now you never have to see me again.”

“I… I didn’t expect it to be so easy,” Justin admitted. “I thought you might try to persuade me not to enlist. That’s what my mother did.”

Gaston, passing again around the small room, stopped to adjust his cravat in the mirror. “Women,” he scoffed.

“Um… I’m…” Justin must have run out of fuel for his anger.

Gaston smiled amicably at Justin. “I know you would prefer to have someone like Prince Adam as a father, and I would prefer to have a son who didn’t lose his lunch at the sight of a dead fox, but we don’t get the choose our family.” A shadow passed over Gaston’s thoughts as he remembered his own father. “Maybe the best thing I could have done for you is stay away.” Gaston waved the paper, ink now dry. “I’m sorry I disappointed you. But I’m not sorry that I love LeFou. And as you despise me for it, then it’s best you make that coach.” Gaston set the parchment on Justin’s baggage. He hesitated, wondering if he should say something fatherly, and then realized that all he’d ever gotten from his own father was insults. He didn’t know what a good father was supposed to say, so he left without saying anything.

Driving back to the castle, the sky grew dark and grey with his mood. By the time he was handing Magnifique back to the stable boy, fat cold drops of rain were splashing his hair and muddying his boots. He took the stairs up the entryway two at a time and was met by Cogsworth, who obligingly opened the door. Gaston took a moment to look at that door, since Justin had mentioned it. Yes, it was new. Gaston felt a pang of something that might, in some future year, develop into a seed of regret. He was now being welcomed without question through a door he had smashed to bits not a year ago. Newly aware of how odd this was, he placed his hand on Cogsworth’s shoulder. Cogsworth eyed him with deep distaste, but Gaston said simply, “Cogsworth, good fellow. It’s cold out, don’t catch a chill.”

Cogsworth only answer was a drawled out, “They’re in the parlor.”

Gaston set off in that direction. Upon opening the parlor doors, he was met with the cozy sight of LeFou, Laura, Belle, and Adam all engaged in conversation over a spread of breakfast delicacies. Tired from his trip to and from town, Gaston sunk uninvited into the free armchair, the same he had used last night. Had they left it empty for him, perhaps? He liked to think so.

Without a word, LeFou passed over a buttery croissant. Gaston jammed it in his mouth and closed his eyes while he chewed. After a moment, he realized the room had gone very quiet. He opened his eyes and looked around to see everyone staring at him.

“That bad, huh?” LeFou asked.

Gaston shrugged and swallowed. “As you said, it was never going to go well. Turns out he was here to get his officer’s commission on enlistment. I signed his papers. I think we parted on fair terms. I don’t expect that I’ll ever see him again, though.”

Belle sighed. “I really am sorry, Gaston. I can’t imagine what this is like for you. I don’t know what it is to have a child but…” she blushed, “I hope to understand soon.”

Laura sat up with a gasp of delight. Adam dropped his half-eaten croquette and Belle smiled at him. Only then did Gaston realize the significance of what Belle had just said.

“Are you sure?” Adam asked breathlessly.

Belle nodded, her vibrant hair bouncing with her enthusiasm.

The joy coming from Belle and Adam only soured Gaston’s mood further. The anger that had been settling into his bones all morning needed badly to be burned off, though he knew he was supposed to be learning to control himself better. How badly he wanted to hunt right now! Or a good brawl would help. He wondered if there was someone he could safely pick a fight with.

LeFou reached over and squeezed Gaston’s hand, and Gaston saw understanding in his best friend’s eyes. No, he could not going around picking fights. That was the old Gaston, the one he had vowed to leave behind for a chance at his own happily ever after.

LeFou interrupted the joyous celebration, saying, “We’re really happy for you. But I think Gaston is having a bad day. Maybe we'd better go.”

Adam stood. “Nonsense. I know Gaston better than he thinks I do!” Adam declared. “I was not so different from him, once. What you need, good chap, is a good old fashioned fencing bout. A little robust movement will help you forget your troubles. I have a foil I can lend you. LeFou, do you referee?”

LeFou stood, nodding. “Yes, I know how.”

Gaston also stood, eager for the exertion but skeptical of Adam’s fencing skills. He seemed to mostly sit around with books. If Gaston got past Adam’s guard and managed to injure the prince, would he be hanged?

Adam leaned down and kissed Belle gently on the forehead then signaled to Gaston and LeFou to follow him, saying “This way lads.” Once in the hallway, Adam told Cogsworth to let Lumiere know a bout was on, as he would certainly want to participate. Soon, half a dozen servants were gathered in the salle, enough for a full match or assault. Gaston’s thought as he prepared his blade was that _he_ would have married Prince Adam if he knew the man could put together a match with about ten minutes of notice right in his own home.

After warm-up, Gaston paired off with the prince himself. Adam saluted and Gaston took the moment to thrust forward.

“Gaston!” LeFou yelled.

“Sorry, it was too tempting” Gaston said, restraining himself to salute as well. From then on he tried to follow proper rules, at least when LeFou was looking.

An hour later, Gaston was soaked in sweat and grinning madly. Adam, too, was wet with perspiration and had a terribly handsome crease in his brow from concentration. LeFou was complaining that they were going too fast for him to score, and the entire thing devolved into a scoreless assault. LeFou continued calling fouls where he could see them. Gaston continued fouling Adam well away from LeFou’s line of sight. After another hour of the assault, Adam finally called the game to an end.

“You fight dirty, Monsieur Gaston,” Adam said, though he didn’t look angry.

“And that, my good sir, is why I returned from the war when many of the men under my command did not. Noble princes with their ethics and their rules of combat are just as dead on the battlefield as anyone else with a sword run through them.”

“I can’t fault that logic,” Adam said, wiping sweat from his brow, “But this is not a battlefield.”

“Life is a battlefield,” Gaston said. He thought Adam a bit of a fool, really. Only the rich and powerful could afford such ethical mores. The rest of France was trying to get from today to tomorrow without dying, and had no compunction about using any method at their disposal.

Adam shook his head. Then he said, “LeFou doesn’t fight dirty. How did he return from war, then?”

Gaston smiled brightly at Adam. “Perhaps he had a guardian angel with less reluctance to do the necessary.”

Adam seemed to search Gaston’s eyes for a moment, then nodded. “Now that I have Belle, I admit I wish I felt better equipped at protecting her and… and the child. Would you ever consider work as a guard?”

“Your sword work is not as terrible as that,” Gaston said, brushing off the statement.

“Nevertheless, it could use improvement. And I can’t shoot at all. We both know you can best me in a fight, as you’ve already done it once.”

“Do you throw at all?” Gaston asked.

“Throw?”

“Knives? Darts?”

“Uh, no,” Adam said. “My father said such pursuits were for drunks, not princes.”

Gaston bowed mockingly, “I happen to be undefeated at throwing, both darts and knives. And once, a cannonball.”

Gaston heard a groan from behind him as LeFou, cleaning up the room, said, “Not the cannonball story. Not right now.”

“My dear LeFou thinks it puts his stomach off,” Gaston explained. “You see, after the man’s head came off, the blood--”

“Gaston!”

“Right, sorry. Another time, then.”

Adam laughed and shook his head. “Well, I’m serious, you know. The castle doesn’t have a guard let alone anyone to captain such. You _are_ a captain, are you not?”

Gaston wasn’t sure what to say to this. He pressed his lips together, wondering if he was being made fun of. Adam surely would never trust him, Gaston, to guard his wife and babe and home.

“Think about it,” Adam suggested as he walked from the room.

LeFou met Gaston’s eyes, gripping his shoulders. “Tell me what you are thinking,” LeFou said.

Gaston shook his head. “I’m not. I can’t. What _should_ I be thinking? Tell me what to think!”

LeFou grinned broadly. “I think he’s beginning to like you. And I think that frightens you.”

Gaston reached out fondly and wrapped one hand around LeFou’s neck. “I am truly terrified, mon ami. I cannot even guess what will happen next.”

LeFou gave a little smile and said, “Next, some debonair man is going to take you home, strip you to your skin, and lather you up in a big tub of water until you no longer smell like the rear side of a cow.”

Gaston laughed and shook out his sweaty shirt. “Yes, but where on Earth can I find such a debonair man on such short notice?”

LeFou’s eyebrow twitched. Gaston laughed again, and felt joy fill him to the corners of his person. His anger had left him completely, and in its place was only regret that such as Justin could not see the past the anatomy of bodies to understand what love truly was. Gaston slung a stinky arm around the man he loved more than life itself, and together they went to find Belle and Laura to bid adieu before returning home for that much-needed bath.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Le return of le fiston. Or, Justin's redemption arc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter, but it's a good place to split it. Expect two more chapters. And then another story, though I have three in my head and I can't decide which to write (my version of Gaston's redemption, a sequel to this, or a modern AU-- any preferences?)

Once outside the castle, LeFou was disappointed to see that the rainstorm Gaston had experienced that morning had not let up. In the box behind Magnifique, LeFou and Gaston huddled uncharacteristically close, Gaston’s long jacket wrapped around the both of them. LeFou desperately wanted to talk to Gaston about Adam’s offer, but Gaston was too preoccupied by getting Magnifique home before they froze solid. It was late April, but the air smelled of snow.

Instead of pulling up to the cottage’s main door, Gaston pulled around back to stow the cart. LeFou stabled Magnifique next to his own horse and dropped down hay for both. Gaston brushed down Magnifique while LeFou drew out fresh well water for the steeds. LeFou took a moment with his own horse, Buddy, and then he joined Gaston in walking up to the house. They went around front since the back door was latched, and both stopped dead in their tracks at the sight of the figure slumped on their steps.

“Justin?” Gaston asked, moving quickly towards the house. “Why are you… Come on, get inside--”

LeFou ran up to help, and together he and Gaston hauled a half-frozen Justin into the house. Gaston brought dry blankets for Justin while LeFou started the fire and set some bread and cheese on a platter. Justin sat still at the table, not seeming to see either of them. Finally he said, “Why are you both being so kind to me?”

“You’re my son,” Gaston said, as if that answered the question. And yet, Gaston knew better than most that kindness and paternity did not go hand-in-hand.

Justin turned red eyes on LeFou, echoing the same question in silence.

“Uh… well… I guess, any son of Gaston’s is… I mean, that makes you my family too.”

It seemed too much for Justin, and he looked his age when fat tears started dripping down his cheeks. He was tall and strong, but LeFou was forced to recall that Justin was only a lad of sixteen years and away from home for the first time.

LeFou looked to Gaston, alarmed and not sure what to do. Gaston’s own expression echoed these sentiments.

“I guess you missed the coach?” Gaston asked.

Justin shook his head, swiping his face with his sleeve. “I didn’t get on,” he said.

“Why didn’t you get on?” Gaston sounded like he was talking to a frightened animal, which on second thought LeFou realized might be exactly the right tone.

Justin didn’t answer, but stared miserably at the table as he began to shiver. LeFou decided to heat up a good-sized mug of cognac over the fire, adding a sprig of thyme for flavor.

Gaston pulled out the chair across from Justin and sat, and for a moment all was quiet aside from the snap of the fire. Finally, Justin spoke. “I was thinking of what you said. You said Prince Adam would make a better father to me. I think maybe I imagined someone like him when I came here, despite what my mother said. But, but-- then-- and I thought you must be depraved, to want a man. I went for a walk to help me think--”

“In the rain?” LeFou balked.

Justin shrugged off this question. “I just wanted to get my thoughts in order. I ran into a few people in town. They asked…” He hiccuped. “They asked after you. Both of you. Were you still at the castle, did you need milk today, how was the smoked brie… And I sort of realized. I don’t _really_ understand, but I understand that you aren’t depraved. You keep a house, like a man and wife. You pay your taxes and feed your horses and go to market, and you have friends in town, even innocent friends like Laura.”

“I’m not a wife,” LeFou added, just to clarify before this went too much further. Gaston shot daggers at him to silence him. “I just want that understood…” LeFou muttered. The cognac was ready so he set it in front of Justin. “This will warm you up.”

“Not a wife,” Gaston laughed. “Look at you fussing over my boy.”

LeFou was about to get angry when Justin said, “Oh, I saw you in that stable last night. I know for a fact that you are not a wife.”

Justin’s comment cut the tension, and soon all three men were laughing. “I’m… sorry about that,” Gaston reaffirmed once the laughter died away.

Justin frowned. “I’m a grown man now. I shouldn’t be frightened to see something like that. After all, in the Army--”

“You definitely will not see anything like that in the Army,” LeFou interjected.

“No, I just meant, I am likely to see worse things. More frightening things. Like death.”

Gaston nodded.

Justin took a deep drink of his cognac. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry I was so terrible to both of you at dinner last night. I had it all wrong in my head. I don’t understand loving a-- loving someone who isn’t a woman-- but I guess I understand now it _is_ love, and not lust.”

“Well, now, there is lust involved,” Gaston said firmly. “I don’t personally have anything against a little healthy lust.”

Justin moved his mouth soundlessly.

“Ah,” Gaston sighed, “You are a maiden. Lust fascinates and scares you. _That_ is something the Army will take care of.”

Justin lifted the rest of his mug to his lips and drank deeply.

*****

After the one cognac, Justin changed into one of LeFou’s nightgowns so as to warm up better. It was much too short on him, but Gaston slept in the nude, so there was no other option. The rain and cold intensified through the afternoon, and Gaston bathed in the bedroom while LeFou dug out the remaining sausage along with cabbage and potatoes. Soon the cottage was awash in the lovely smell of a country stew. LeFou produced his cribbage cards while the stew cooked, and the three men gathered around the table to play until the stew cooked.

Dinner was stew, bread, and cheese. Afterwards, they drank cognac and watched the fire. LeFou, unable to help himself, sang a few songs. Gaston joined him in a two part harmony for a rousing rendition of Auprès de ma blonde. LeFou remembered fondly how they would sing in their Army days, gathered around the bonfires and getting drunk to forget their miseries. LeFou turned to Justin to ask whether he sang, but Justin was fast asleep in Gaston’s usual armchair. LeFou elbowed Gaston, who was lost in the fire, probably remembering the war as well. Gaston and LeFou cleaned up the room as quietly as possible, and Gaston threw blankets over Justin. They moved to their own bedroom and shut the door behind them.

LeFou eyed the bed with trepidation. “I don’t know how I feel about sharing a bed with you when your son in the other room,” LeFou confessed.

“I’m sure I don’t care how you feel, LeFou. It’s your bed, and your house, and he’s not a child. He already saw-- what he saw.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

“It is. If you won’t sleep in your own bed with him in the house, I’ll kick him out.”

“No!”

“Then get into bed,” Gaston ordered.

LeFou smiled to himself as he climbed under the covers. Gaston had dealt with many unusual situations today, and somehow had kept his temper and come out of the day with a job offer and a son.

“You must be exhausted, mon ours,” LeFou whispered. “Turn over, and let me rub your back.”

“I can’t,” Gaston whispered mischievously. “My healthy little lust is quite awake.”

LeFou laughed. “Gaston, there is nothing little about your lust.”

Gaston seemed to turn serious, his mood shifting as easily as a spring breeze. “Nor yours, mon amour. I hope you know I don’t see you as a wife or a woman.”

LeFou sighed. He fingers moved of their own accord, tracing out the edges of Gaston’s well-defined abdominal muscles. “Well, I’m no paragon of masculinity.” LeFou felt nervous under Gaston’s intense stare, accentuated as it was by the candlelight.

“Fabien,” Gaston whispered, “Be serious now. Does my body intimidate you?”

Now LeFou did laugh. “If I had to compete with you, it would! But no.” LeFou dipped a finger along the ridge of Gaston’s hip to underscore his feelings. “No, I would rather be me than you. After all, I’m the one who gets to _see_ you. You’re left looking at _me_.”

Gaston ran tender fingers through LeFou’s hair. “It’s not a terrible sight. You are soft and round and warm--”

“And hairy,” LeFou supplied, still laughing.

“I’m not joking,” Gaston said, getting irritated. “I want you to know I don’t think of you as a woman.”

LeFou let the smile slip off his face. He thought back to the first time he had made love to Gaston, after weeks of tensions and revelations and apologies. Those weeks had been some of the best and worst of LeFou’s life, but that night… LeFou was not new at this. In the Army, men like him had ways of identifying each other, and he had learned them quickly. But Gaston, who had made love to countless women, had come to LeFou’s bed trembling. He’d been terrified, wondering where to touch, what to do. At the same time, he had been electrified, hypersensitive to every action and reaction. He had been like a virgin.

“Gaston, I know you don’t think of me as your woman. Stop troubling yourself and get some sleep.”

Gaston raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you don’t wish to look at my body first?” It was his awkward way of suggesting sex, LeFou thought, and it was comical in its arrogance.

“Ordinarily…” LeFou squinted his eyes as though he were thinking. “It’s hard to say no to such a generous offer, but maybe we should at least make sure Justin can get one night without being subjected to our debauchery.”

“He’s asleep.”

“There’s one wall between us and him. And not a thick one.”

Gaston sighed and slumped back onto his pillow, tucking his arms behind his head. LeFou leaned over to blow out the candle. Turning to Gaston in the dark, he saud, “Tomorrow we are going to talk about what Adam said.”

Gaston merely grunted.

The day had been long, and soon both men were fast asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every morning just the same, which is exactly how Gaston and LeFou like their lives. Basically fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems most people were keen to have the 'prequel' redemption story for this universe, so that will likely be next. It helps that I'm reading Trails of Apollo by Rick Riordan, which is redemption story for a narcissistic megalomaniac who finds himself transformed into a pudgy carbuncular teen named Lester. If you are reading that, which you should, you may notice parallels.

When LeFou awoke the next morning in his favorite spot, face buried in Gaston’s chest hair, his first thought was of Justin. He rolled out of bed and began dressing without waking Gaston. He stepped to the main room of the cottage and noticed that the couch was empty. There was no sign of Justin anywhere, and LeFou was half convinced he had imagined the entire afternoon before. On the table, though, he found a handwritten note on good parchment paper.

LeFou poked his head back into the bedroom and saw Gaston stretching out his long muscles. Gaston saw him and smiled. “I’m going to be sore from that bout yesterday. It has been too long since I trained that hard.”

“Justin’s gone, but he left this,” LeFou said, handing over the note.

Gaston took it and frowned as he read.

“Well?” LeFou asked.

Gaston set it down. “He went to call on Laura. At this time of the morning? What time is it?”

LeFou shrugged. “Early still. I just woke up.”

“You don’t think he and Laura…”

“No,” LeFou said, shaking his head, “She’s much too old for him.”

“You’re right,” Gaston said, but he didn’t look relieved. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Nothing.”

“What?” Gaston gasped as if insulted. Breakfast was an important meal to Gaston.

“We didn’t go to the market yesterday,” LeFou reminded him.

“Oh. Right. Let’s waste no time then!” Gaston stood and began to dress himself. LeFou took singular pleasure in watching Gaston primp and preen. When Gaston was done, he grabbed his leather satchel and they headed down the street.

Unlike yesterday, which had been rainy and unseasonably cold, today was perfection. The sun shone. Mud puddles dotted the dirt roads, but the cobbled ones were clean and dry. They went back to their usual routine, and LeFou was glad for the normalcy. Ignace sold them bread and milk. From Gabriel, they bought some of last season’s potatoes.

“When will you have carrots?” LeFou asked Gabriel.

“Not for at least another two or three weeks. There will be radishes soon though!”

“I love radishes,” Gaston said. “Tell the radishes that Gaston is waiting on them, so they must not waste time.”

Gabriel laughed. “I will tell them.”

“Uh, yell at the carrots too, or whatever,” LeFou said.

At Ange’s booth, LeFou asked after their ducklings. Ange answered, “They are just as tiny as they were two days ago, monsieur. Have some patience.” Had it really only been two days?

Gaston bought two dozen duck eggs, perhaps frustrated with not having had breakfast ready to hand and wanting to prevent it from happening again for at least a few more days.

From the flower booth, Katia glared up at them while her little boy ran around getting under everyone’s feet. “Where’s Laura?” LeFou asked.

For a moment it seemed Katia was unlikely to answer, as she just continued to glower. Finally she said, “Gaston’s son asked her to take a turn around town with him. So of course while she entertains a suitor I am stuck here selling weeds.” Her eyes passed over to Gaston. “My husband won’t give your son permission to wed Laura. You can tell him so. I’d sooner have an actual horse’s ass as a relative than to have _you_.”

LeFou was eased to see that Gaston didn’t take much offense to this. Katia was mean-spirited to everyone as a rule. Rather, Gaston smiled brightly, his eyes crinkling in that way LeFou loved, and asked, “How are our chickens?”

“Alive,” Katia answered.

“You’re welcome,” Gaston said before walking on to the next booth.

LeFou bid an awkward farewell to Katia and caught up with Gaston. “I’m sure Justin has no intentions on Laura.”

Gaston stopped and raised an eyebrow at LeFou. “Are you _really_ sure?”

“Well, no, but--”

“He is young, yes, we have covered that. And bound for the Army. I think we can safely assume there will be no wedding today. But I’d wager he writes her.”

“There’s no harm in writing.”

“None at all,” Gaston said with a smile, as he continued walking.

Ghislain then caught site of LeFou and Gaston. “Messieurs! I asked your son yesterday and he said he did not know. How was the aged brie? It’s fantastic, is it not?”

LeFou scrunched his nose. “If I’m being truthful, I didn’t prefer it.”

“Ah, well…” Ghislain was visibly disappointed. 

“I liked it,” Gaston said.

Ghislain perked up at this. “I have something new in today. It’s from Normandy. I think Monsieur Gaston will enjoy it.”

Gaston passed over coins for the new cheese and moved on to Rene, whose charcuterie cart smelled so delicious that LeFou could not pass on today’s samples. Gaston bought far too much meat, and Rene expressed that he desperately wished to make venison sausage. Gaston smiled at this and said he would oblige at his earliest convenience, for the low price of ten links for himself.

All their goods acquired, LeFou suggested they walk the long way home due to the beauty of the day. In a way, they were taking their own turn through the town. It was a common courtship ritual for town’s youth. LeFou pulled out the brie to satisfy Gaston’s infamous morning hunger. He wanted to talk to Gaston, and LeFou felt he talked best while walking.

When Gaston had a good mouthful of brie, LeFou saw his opportunity. “So,” he said, “Adam offered you a job at the castle.”

Gaston stopped walking for a second, his dark eyes accusing LeFou of entrapment even as his tongue tried to free itself from the brie. LeFou laughed. “You can tell me your thoughts in a minute, but first I want you to hear mine.” They walked on. LeFou breathed in deeply. He was not the best at crafting words to explain his thoughts. “I want you to know I am so proud of how far you have come in this past year. It’s beyond my wildest hopes. And I trust you with any decision you make. Really.”

Gaston swallowed thickly. “That was a dirty trick.”

“Don’t tell me you’re concerned with fairness all of a sudden. Do you have any idea how many times you fouled Adam yesterday?”

Gaston narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t see that.”

“No, no,” LeFou said, shaking his finger in the air, “I didn’t _let on_ to seeing it.”

Gaston smiled brilliantly, though the effect was diminished slightly by the brie still stuck to his teeth. “Why on earth I ever thought I would need anyone in my life other than you, I will never know.”

“Madness. Temporary insanity.”

Gaston laughed heartily. LeFou so loved making Gaston laugh. But alas, this stroll was for a purpose.

“You’re getting off the topic,” LeFou warned.

Gaston shook his head and adjusted his tricorn. “I sense you would really enjoy living in a castle full of friends. There would be soirees and dances and songs, gardens large enough to contain all of Villeneuve three times over… But I admit I am hesitant.”

“Could you say why?” LeFou asked.

Gaston moved his head back and forth as if hoping for a thought to fall out. Finally, he said, “I like our life here. I like this town. I love those people we see every morning.” He used one expansive hand to indicate the market they had left behind. “I like exchanging barbs with Katia or flowers with Laura. I love that Ghislain takes his cheeses so seriously and they all taste the same to me. I love when Tom wants to shoot things just for the hell of it. I love to see you singing in the tavern. I was thinking of buying Xavier’s dogs off of him. If he is hard up enough to eat fox meat, I could easily buy them off him. They’re good dogs. I don’t want to leave this all behind. I admit I like the idea of staying in fighting shape, and of training others to fight. That is something I miss dearly. But I don’t think I could bear to leave the cottage and the life we’ve made.”

LeFou slipped his hand into Gaston’s. They were still well within the busy center of Villeneuve, and this had to be the one slice of the world where two men could walk down the street holding hands. If anyone thought of it, they likely thought, “Gaston’s still in LeFou’s good graces, so there will be no mayhem today.” If they felt anything, it was safety and relief, not revulsion. This was unique to their own corner of creation. And LeFou didn’t want to leave it behind, either.

“I would enjoy the castle, I’m sure,” LeFou admitted. “There would be music, and dancing, and fine food, and friends… But I would also miss all of this. I don’t want to move to the castle any more than you do. But I am concerned. Prince Adam wasn’t wrong about needing a guard. If something were to happen to him--” LeFou didn’t finish the sentence. It was too selfish to consider that if his friend Adam died, his chief concern would be where in the world he could still walk down the street holding Gaston’s hand.

“Hmm,” Gaston said. “This gives me a kind of idea.”

“Yes?”

“All my life, I’ve been the closest thing this town has had to a guard.”

“Well…” LeFou wasn’t sure he agreed with that assessment.

“What if I trained some other people to do it? The castle and the town could _share_ a guard.”

It seemed obvious to LeFou that their local lord and any guard he chose to employ would also be sworn to protect the town, but he decided not to interrupt Gaston’s roll.

“We could split our time, perhaps. Sometimes staying at the castle, and sometimes in the village.”

Well now, there was an idea LeFou hadn’t thought of.

“And I could hire on more guards. Lads from the town. Doesn’t Ange have a son?”

“Yes, he’s fourteen.”

“Ah, perfect age!” Gaston’s enthusiasm was palpable now. “If the prince pays the guard, it will also help the town.”

“That is true,” LeFou nodded.

“It’s settled then!” Gaston declared.

“Well, I think we have to ask Adam first.”

“Ah, right. He believes he is in charge of us.”

“I… think he actually is.”

By this time, they had arrived back at their cottage. LeFou set to work cooking eggs and sausage for breakfast while Gaston fed the horses. The two of them settled down to eat at the table when there was a knock at the door. They looked at each other in surprise and LeFou stood to answer it. Gaston turned to see who it was. When Justin stepped inside, Gaston said, “You don’t have to knock, not if you plan to stay here.”

Justin seemed to pause mid-step. “I can stay here?”

“Well, we can’t house you indefinitely,” Gaston said. “But you did sleep here last night.”  
“No, no, I mean, I was planning on catching this evening’s coach. I’m just… That’s kind.”

“Well, if you come back this way, you needn’t waste your money at the Tavern. Not for lodging, anyway. I prefer to save mine for drink, eh LeFou?”

LeFou laughed for Gaston, because it was expected in response to the joke. Inside, though, LeFou felt closer to weeping for joy. He was greatly affected by the warmth Gaston directed towards Justin. It was a warmth Gaston had never gotten from his own father.

“We’ll be sorry to see you leave,” LeFou said, trying to keep his voice steady.

“When I come back, I will be an Army officer!”

“Don’t wait too long,” Gaston warned. “Laura isn’t getting younger.”

Justin stammered a bit before spitting out, “We are just friends, I don’t… She’s just a nice friend.”

Gaston smirked a LeFou and said, “Do you recall when we were Justin’s age, signing up for the Army? As I recall, we also were just friends.” Gaston finished this off with a wink.

“Aww, don’t tease him,” LeFou said. Then, after a beat, he sprang to his feet. “Just wait here, I have something for you.” He turned and ran for the bedroom.

Underneath the bed, in a leather scabbard, was a fine blade. It had never been used to kill a person, though LeFou had kept it in good condition. LeFou handled it with care, pulling it from the scabbard to see its silver glitter. In the scabbard he had also hidden a handkerchief Gaston gave him. Even Gaston did not know he’d kept it. LeFou worried it was a girlish thing to do. His own dried blood stained it, and bringing it to his nose brought back images of the battlefield as clearly as if it had been yesterday. In those days, all was gunpowder and blood. They'd slept in fits, fully clothed, shivering in the cold. They were up to march before the sun. LeFou might have been happy to forget the entire experience, but he remembered Gaston-- Gaston caring for him when he was sick, tending his small wounds, pressing his own handkerchief to LeFou's cut forehead in the midst of a pitched battle. LeFou tucked the cloth into his pocket. He was happy to have that time behind him, but he would never let himself forget it. 

LeFou shook his head to clear it and carried the still-unsheathed sword to the main room, whereupon he handed the blade and scabbard to Justin. “My small sword. I know Gaston’s partial to his, and if you have the paternity papers signed, they might expect you to have your own.”

Gaston looked down to his own waist. His small sword was actually fixed there even know. LeFou didn’t think Gaston planned to _use_ it, but it was a beautiful fashion accessory, with its gleaming buckle and rich leather.

“I’ve never, uh, it’s never been used,” said LeFou. “Well, maybe to cut a gourd or something.” He shrugged.

Justin’s eyes were wide. “Thank you, Monsieur LeFou.”

“That’s too much,” Gaston said suddenly. His hands began undoing his belt buckle. “Here, you should take mine.”

LeFou reached out a hand and placed it on top of Gaston’s, stopping his misguided attempt at generosity. “Don’t be silly.”

“He’s _my_ son. He should have my sword.”

LeFou met Gaston’s dark eyes with his own, and felt a little anger rise within him. “I think it’s safe to say I don’t have any sons to pass my sword on to.” After all, LeFou had never once successfully bedded a woman. “Will you please let me do this? Don’t take away the only thing I can do for your son.”

Gaston paused for a long while, and then re-fastened the buckle on his sword belt.

“Monsieur LeFou,” Justin said, bowing, “I can’t thank you--”

“No need to thank me,” LeFou said. “Like it or not, you and I are family.” He moved to make this point by fixing a third plate of eggs and sausage for Justin.

“I… I am…” Justin truly had a way with words.

“LeFou,” Gaston said.

LeFou set Justin’s plate on the table and turned to Gaston. “Huh?”

But Gaston also was unable to get words out. He moved his mouth several times to no avail, and then crossed the floor in one long step. His calloused fingers pulled LeFou’s chin up, and Gaston touched his own lips to LeFou’s, tenderly at first, and then with growing urgency. LeFou felt the heat rush to his face and thought to break the kiss. Justin was _right there_. But Gaston’s mouth was insistent, and LeFou’s thoughts were moving too slowly.

Finally, after an eternity, Gaston broke the kiss. “Mon Fabien,” Gaston said quietly, “You have been with me almost all my life. You were at my side throughout the war. You were even in my thoughts when I bounced the beds of maidens and widows alike.”

“I… I _was_?” LeFou was surprised to learn that Gaston had thought of him _that way_ even then, but he guessed he shouldn’t have been too surprised. After all, LeFou had imagined touching Gaston from almost their first meeting.

“Any child I have is yours as well.”

LeFou, overcome, leaned forward and brought his forehead to rest against Gaston’s down-turned one. They stayed that way in silence until a throat cleared behind Gaston.

LeFou jumped about five feet away in one instant, prompting both Gaston and Justin to laugh. And though LeFou could hear the nervous edge to Justin’s laugh, LeFou thought the boy had progressed quite far from denouncing their depravity in company not two days ago to sitting at their kitchen table while Gaston ravished LeFou’s lips. Then again, the young were often mercurial and adaptable. The real miracle was Gaston, who had said such endearing things in the presence of young Justin.

LeFou sat down with his family to finish his breakfast.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A good old-fashioned fluffy epilogue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sad to be done this one, but there's a prequel in the works that I hope you will like, detailing Gaston's 'redemption'.

The second regiment was en route to put down a group of rebels on the Spanish border. They were welcomed in all the towns they went through, with young ladies throwing themselves upon lads in uniform. It was not lost to Justin that his own mother had been the same. She, too, had seen a handsome soldier and thrown away her virtue. Justin tried to school his men to behave better than his own father had, but it was mostly for naught; in the night he still heard men stumbling back half drunk, boasting of bedding some country maid.

And because he was looking for it, he also saw the way some of the men tied bows on the ends of their neckties and absconded in the middle of the night in pairs.

Justin made a conscious decision not to interfere with these actions. He was young, and his men resented his lieutenancy. They understood his commission was due to being the son of a captain of some little renown. Justin would have to pick his battles where he could win them.

On the first of July, they were to march through a little town that Justin somewhat knew. He had only been there once, but he had met the town’s lord. Moreover, his own father captained that esteemed man’s guard. And most importantly of all, he had a particular friend there. She was a woman with quite a few years on him, but still a virtuous maid, and he was determined that the first thing he was going to do after earning his captain’s bars was to make her his wife. If she would consent, of course.

It was to this woman he penned his letters. He sent one every fortnight just as he wrote his mother. As they approached the lady’s town, Justin wrote very frequently, informing her of the troop’s daily progress.

Finally, the day had arrived. His troops would be entering Villeneuve in mid-morning and camping nearby through the night. Laura had told him they were preparing some entertainments for the troops, but Justin could never have guessed the magnitude of it.

*****

It’s a fact of the Army that only a small portion of men would even enjoy the pursuits that Prince Adam had in mind. Gaston knew this, and he knew the effect it would have on the troops if the preferences of the rest were not met.

“You’re really not going to come to the ball?” LeFou asked, anger and hurt radiating from his dark eyes.

“Mon Fabien, you misunderstand me. Any other ball and you know I’d take turns around the floor with you until we couldn’t walk. You can dance with Stanley. I have to see to the _rest_ of the men.” The bulk of the men, Gaston thought. “Besides, if I tend to the drunkards, it will give Justin the opportunity to dance.”

LeFou nodded. “Alright, but then I’m coming with you. You know how good I am at entertaining troops.”

Gaston frowned. “Is that wise? The two of us together might arouse suspicion.”

LeFou waved him off. “In this town, _you_ are the captain of the guard. And we have always been together.”

Gaston turned back to the mirror, fixing his hair once again. “If you insist. I know how you love balls.”

“There are things I love more,” LeFou said.

Gaston locked eyes with LeFou through the mirror and they shared a smile. Then LeFou came over with his careful fingers and tied a bow at the end of Gaston’s necktie.

“What is this for?” Gaston asked.

LeFou smiled blandly and shrugged. “It’s a new trend.”

*****

Justin, upon reaching town and setting up camp, did not immediately reach out to his father. He was expected at the castle, in fact, and he assumed he would see his father at the dance. Once he’d arrived at the castle, he was swept up in a flurry of activity. Servants seemed to come from nowhere at all, dumping him up into perfumed baths and fittings and hair trimming and more fittings. Before Justin could take stock of how much day he had left, an intimate dinner was being served. He decided not to fret. Laura was sure to be at dinner, as well as his father and LeFou.

In fact, Laura was there, looking positively radiant in a ball gown that was somewhere between a deep pink and light purple. It picked out the pink in her pale cheeks and he could scarcely take his eyes from her. For this reason, perhaps, he did not even register until halfway through the first course that his father and LeFou were not at the table, which sat ten people.

The first sensation to settle into Justin’s gut at the realization was something like dread. Had something happened? Surely he would have been told. Laura had never said anything suspicious in her letters. She rarely mentioned Justin’s father except to comment that Gaston and LeFou were well. Justin knew from Laura that Gaston was captaining and training Prince Adam’s personal guard, and that he and LeFou lived half-time at the castle. Secretly, Justin thought he would like to join that guard when he was freed of military service, that is if Laura consented to marry him and if she wanted to stay here in Villeneuve.

Princess Belle had seated Justin and Laura together, a fact for which he was profoundly grateful. It also afforded him the chance to ask her, “Why is my father not at dinner?”

She turned large eyes to him. “Oh! I do not know. I am sure he was invited. Adam and Gaston actually get on quite well these days.”

Thus, Justin had to wait for a break in the larger conversation before he could ask his hosts the same question. His fears were mollified when Belle grinned at him. “It was actually his idea,” she said. “We were to get you here for dinner and throw an extravagant ball. We’ve provided clothes and rooms for anyone in the village or regiment who wants to attend. Gaston knew you would like to, and Laura. But he confessed that he didn’t think many of your men would take us up on the offer.”

Justin thought back to his men-- they were drunkards, gamblers, and foul-mouthed letches, as a rule. He could not imagine them in finery. “No,” he said frowning, “I suppose not. Your offer of a ball is very kind, but I see my father’s point, and I’m afraid of what mischief the men may get up to if I am occupied away from camp.” He did not want his own troops to be accused of looting the town, or worse.

“That’s just it,” Belle said, leaning forward earnestly. “He’s at your camp! With LeFou of course. They’re going to entertain your troops while you enjoy the finer aspects of the castle.”

Justin was speechless. “They shouldn’t-- I should-- I don’t know that I can ask that of them.”

“You didn’t ask,” Belle said.

“Don’t concern yourself,” Adam said. “Gaston and LeFou spend a lot of time in the castle. They join us for dinner weekly. They have a suite of rooms in the East Wing. We had a ball just last month, and they rather showed us up.”

Laura giggled.

Lumiere, standing nearby in case his master and mistress needed anything, cleared his throat and spoke. “I declare I have never seen two people dance a _canarie_ at that speed. And I never would have thought LeFou could jump so high!”

“I was wondering where they learned it, myself,” Adam mused.

“So much wasted talent,” Lumiere mused. “They could have been entertainers!”

“I don’t know that it’s _wasted_ talent,” said an unknown young man. “Both are quite agile, but Gaston especially has always been fast on his feet. I think that comes in handy in a fight as well.”  
“Indeed,” Adam agreed. “Regardless, tonight they will be entertaining Justin’s troops with their _canarie_. We shall have to deal with the rather slower waltzes we were wont to before.”

“They have quite excellent singing voices as well,” Justin heard himself saying, remembering the warm evening spent in the house of his father and his father’s… He never knew what word to call LeFou. Lover? He supposed it was accurate if inadequate.

“Yes,” a dark-skinned woman said, “They do, but they are too silly to stick to a tune properly.”

Justin laughed to himself, impressed at the description of Gaston and LeFou as ‘silly’.

The conversation moved on from there to other things, and Justin sank into an evening where he didn’t have to worry even a tiny bit about his troops.

*****

Justin stood at the cottage door, undecided. It was past the middle of the night. If he knocked, he might wake Gaston and LeFou, and he owed them some sleep at least. But he had been in town for hours now and not yet seen his actual family. He felt he owed them a call before the troops moved out tomorrow. But beyond obligation, he _wanted_ to see them. It was an urge he could not explain, the way you might see a rose and feel drawn to smell it. Over the past few months he had started to think of them as family. How often had his troops snarled that he only got his position because of his father? How often, when seeing his soldiers sneak off in pairs, had he tried not to think of what he’d seen in the stables? And every day, when he strapped on the small sword that had once been LeFou’s, he wondered what it might have been like to have _LeFou_ as a father.

Well, if he entered and they were asleep, he could just leave. What if he entered and they were-- but no, they had a bedroom after all. Surely they would use it.

So Justin turned the knob and opened the unlocked door.

He was comforted by the sight of a glowing fire. On the rug in front of it, LeFou lay face-down, snoring loudly. Gaston sat nearby on the floor, slumped at the foot of his armchair. He turned at the sound of the door opening, then pressed one long finger to his mouth and said “Shhh.”

“He… he doesn’t look likely to wake,” Justin whispered. “How much did he drink?”

“Oh, not too much. He’s just tired.” Gaston yawned.

“Why don’t you go to bed?”

In answer to this, Gaston kicked LeFou’s foot with his own. LeFou’s foot wiggled but he did not wake. “I can’t just leave him here.” Gaston sighed. “I suppose I could carry--” He started to stand but evidently thought better of it and thumped back down onto the floor. “ _I_ drank too much,” he admitted.

Justin laughed, but he couldn’t just leave his father and LeFou passed out all over the floor. “Alright,” Justin said, moving towards the part of the room that housed the stove. He found a pitcher of water and poured out a glass. This, he handed to his father. “Drink this. I’ll move him.”

Gaston looked ready to object but must have thought better of it. Justin squated down. He was seventeen and large for his age, strong like his father. LeFou would not be light, but time in the Army had only improved Justin’s strength. He lifted LeFou under the armpits and pulled the heavy man onto his shoulder and over it. He got his weight centered above his heels and grunted as he stood. LeFou’s snoring stopped at the movement, but he didn’t wake. Justin carried him to the bedroom and lowered him as carefully as he could onto the bed.

Back in the main room, Gaston had finished his water and was making another attempt at standing. It was rather like watching a newborn deer. Justin hurried over to give his father a hand. He helped the man to the same bed in which he had dumped LeFou. Gaston immediately set to work trying to get LeFou’s shoes off, though his fingers were fumbling. Justin helped with this. Gaston pulled off LeFou’s breeches, and Justin was relieved to note that LeFou was wearing an undergarment. LeFou did stir at this but didn’t wake. Justin moved to help take off his coat, and LeFou did open his eyes and squint up at Justin. “It’s you,” he said, patting Justin’s cheek, and Justin genuinely had no idea whether LeFou was speaking to him or thought he was his father.

Finally, Gaston wrestled his own jacket off and collapsed back on the bed, panting from the exertions of undressing whilst highly inebriated. Within moments, both men were snoring.

Justin stayed long enough to see the fire burn low. He put away the dried dishes and washed the water cup he had given Gaston. Finally, he left see to his own men in his camp.

*****

The sun was far too bright for Gaston, and the noise of the troops too loud. His head was tender from too much drink. After he saw Justin off, he had every intention of crawling back into bed for the day. No one would miss him for one day, surely. Well, they might, as he was so understandably important to the town, but it couldn’t be helped.

“There he is,” LeFou said. He was smiling, and seemed to be enjoying the sunlight. Gaston swallowed his jealousy, cursing LeFou and his decision to drink in moderation. If Gaston could not ease his own headache, he wished at least that he did not have to suffer alone.

Gaston pulled his tricorn lower over his eyes. “I’ll just follow you,” he mumbled.

This earned him a frown from LeFou. “Are you sure you’ll be alright?”

“No,” Gaston ground out. “But I’m not likely to die, so lead on.”

LeFou nodded, and the horses trode through the rows of tents towards Justin’s. There were not so many men, really, which was not surprising as they wouldn’t trust very many to a green lieutenant. Gaston assumed Justin was joining with other regiments near the border to put down some peasant strike or what have you.

As they passed through the men, more than a few shouted greetings to them. Others moaned, also clearly having overdone their drink. “LeFou,” Gaston said in a low voice. “I know I’m quite a sight for the sore eyes of these poor men, but I don’t believe I’ve ever been propositioned by as many men in one place as I was last night.”

LeFou’s smile was just a little bit smug as he said, “You grow more lovely with each passing day, like a fine wine. By the time you are old and gray, I shall have to hit them away with sticks.”

Gaston grinned at the image.

*****

They arrived then at Justin’s tent and both men dismounted. Gaston called out and Justin bade them enter. Inside, it could have been any military tent in any regiment. They were all identical. LeFou remembered when he and Gaston had shared a tent no different from this one. Gaston evidently felt right at home as well, as he slipped onto the bed and, lying down, draped an arm over his eyes.

“We move out within the hour,” Justin said, frowning at his father.

“LeFou will help you. Help him, LeFou,” Gaston said, waving in LeFou’s general direction.

LeFou smiled sheepishly at Justin. He didn’t like when Gaston bossed him around, especially in front of others.

Justin, though, laughed as though it had been a joke. “There’s no need, I have a whole regiment of enlisted men to help me. I just need them to be able to pack the cot.” This last he directed towards Gaston.

Gaston groaned, sat back up, and in his most dramatic voice reached an arm for LeFou. “My dearest,” he cooed, “Ease this burden for me. Shoot me now, or take a blade to my throat, before my head implodes.”

LeFou heaved Gaston to his feet and said, “Stop being a baby.” For his trouble, Gaston draped an arm around LeFou and slumped hard against him.

Justin was watching this rather fondly. “You know,” he said, “I think I will miss you both. No, I now I will. I have missed you already these long weeks.”

“You have?” LeFou cursed himself for the high pitch of his voice.

“Of course he has,” Gaston said. “No one likes to be away from me for very long.”

“I mean, even me?” LeFou amended with an almost-comical deep voice as if that might counteract the former high pitched question.

“Monsieur LeFou, I miss your steady heart most of all.”

“You can…” LeFou hesitated, then made up his mind. “You can call me Fabien. That’s my name.”

Gaston seemed put out by this. “No one calls you Fabien.”

“You do, mon amour.”

“Yes, but no one _else_ is allowed to.”

“It’s my _name_. You can’t control who I let use it.”

“I can--”

Justin interrupted. “How about... well I hope it’s not too forward... but I could call you papa?”

LeFou felt weak in his knees. Papa? _Himself_ , a papa?

“But that’s _me_ ,” Gaston grumbled.

“Sorry,” Justin said tremulously. “I just thought… since you both seem to share so much else…”

LeFou was still dumbstruck, moved beyond words. Gaston must have seen it then, because he placed a massive hand on the back of LeFou’s neck and said, “My dear LeFou, how easily you are moved.”

LeFou felt a pain in his chest-- anger or embarrassment at Gaston’s needling. But it faded as soon as it nested, for Gaston kept talking: “And how easily I am moved by seeing your joy. If I’d known it were this easy to melt your heart, I’d have rounded up a dozen sons for you last year.”

Justin frowned at this. “How many more do you think you have?”

“I don’t know. Two score?”

Justin’s frown drew down.

“No, that’s not right,” LeFou said. Justin seemed to visibly relax at this reassurance, but LeFou went on, “At least half of them are likely to be girls.”

“Oh yes,” Gaston said, nodding. To Justin he said, “You should probably not bed any women who can’t name their father. Especially towards the Spanish border.”

“And if you see any strays, we can take them,” LeFou said, grinning at Justin’s obvious discomfort with this conversation.

“Don’t worry though,” Gaston said. “You’ll always be my favorite. Because you’re the first person to call LeFou _papa_.”

~FIN~


End file.
